Angel Like You
by LolaJGreen
Summary: " Get your guns, battle's begun, are you a saint or a sinner? If love's a fight, then I shall die, with my heart on a trigger." A young woman is thrust into throes of WW2. She has a clear directive, but the lines are blurred, especially when family history and personal vendettas, and most of all, matters of the heart come into play in Fortress Europe.
1. Prologue

She smiled, softly to herself. A quick twitch of perfectly pouty lips as she sprinted out of the train station. Her departure from Ottawa to New York had been delayed, delayed any longer and there was no way her long legs could carry her fast enough to the harbour. She had a troop ship to England to catch. Why she couldn't catch one with her Canadian boys, she did not know. She had orders, orders that no one deemed to clarify to her. Just get on this train, and be at this dock, at this time on this date. Clear and simple.

It was the military, she was expected to comply. Comply without question. So, here she was. In New Yok City, for the first time in her young life, running through the streets, the wind blowing her once carefully coifed, thick dark hair out of its pins. She couldn't help but smile at the irony of it, no time to look around, and quite possibly the only time she would ever be in New York.

Oh well. War is hell.

* * *

 **September 1943, Troop Ship Samaria**

She arrived at the pier and was instantly assaulted by the sight of so many American flags, so many people, many smiling and laughing, and just as many weeping and crying. She quickly stopped and composed herself, regained her even breathing, and straightened her dress uniform as best as she could. Running so many city streets in a skirt had not been easy and she was well aware without seeing herself in a mirror that she did not look as an officer should. There wasn't much she could do about it, nor did she think anyone would really care, considering the circumstances.

She warily eyed the ship, and made for the gang plank.

"Ma'am" a strong male voice called from her left. She turned and eyed the young man, dressed similarly to her, in the dress uniform of the Canadian Army.

"Are you Lieutenant MacLeod of the Black Watch?" he asked, straightening up in a salute.

"Nemo me impune lacessit" she responded, eyeing the insignia on his shoulder and acknowledging his salute.

He handed her an envelope, and turned to leave. "God speed Ma'am".

She looked at the thick manila envelope in her hand for a brief moment, pondering the contents. They were her orders, her mission. Well, she would face destiny soon enough, first though, she had to make it through the throng of people to the gang plank before the ship's whistle sounded once again. It was time for it to depart.

* * *

The ship was crowded, he sighed, knowing full well that the cruise across the Atlantic would be no luxury trip. There would be a lot of spare time he mused with a wry smile tugging at his lips. A lot of spare time and very little space for time alone.

He was a man who enjoyed silence, who could retreat into himself and be completely content. He was a leader, a trained killer, and although, he never intended for that to be his destiny, Hitler had other plans for him and so many men.

Fucking Hitler, he thought, dropping his cigarette to the deck of the ship and stomping it out with a bit more force than necessary.

Seeing his expression and sensing his mood, the men around him stepped quickly out of his projected path, and then he saw her.

No sooner had he caught site of her, than a chorus of rowdy cat calls followed. He was silently impressed, she didn't blink, she didn't pause, but he did notice the twitch of the muscles in her high cheeks.

She was lovely, he concluded, studying her long legs in the dress uniform, one he couldn't quite place. It wasn't one of theirs, and she was most certainly not a nurse he mused.

No sooner had his study of her began than she disappeared from his sight. With a shrug, he pulled out another cigarette and walked the length of the deck to another officer. He might as well be social, it was going to be a long trip.

1 "Nemo Me Impune Lacessit" is latin for No one shall touch me with impunity


	2. Chapter 1

The chapters will be longer, I'm just working on defining my characters and setting the scene...

* * *

She boarded the ship with ease, however, making her way through the throng of men crowded on the deck was a challenge. She was aware of the shocked glances that were thrown in her direction, the not so subtle elbowing to the fellow next to them, and alas, the crowd parted for her, like Moses parting the sea, and she was able to make it inside the ship.

Once relatively alone in the passage way, she shouldered her sea bag, and quickly ripped open the envelope.

 _My darling Ana,_

 _Welcome to the fight._

 _You have by far surpassed all expectations, and I had truly believed, hoped, that you would fail, and that you would see how difficult the life of a soldier was, and give up. Now, has a testament to your will, your pure determination and strength, you have my undying support. You have earned your rank, you have earned your assignment._

 _Your father would be so proud of you, and perhaps a little angry with me for sending his child into combat, after all the horrors he witnessed. Your father saved my life, a fact that I know that you are aware. And although I feel that your gifts would be better served in other avenues for the war effort, I will not deny you your wish. You've earned it._

 _Once aboard the ship, you will seek out the 506_ _th_ _Parachute Infantry. Yes, the Americans, as you have already guessed. You will report to Colonel Robert Sink for further direction. From there, my dear, you are in their hands. You will serve your country as they see fit._

 _Do us proud._

 _Your Commander_

She smiled to herself, a slight twitch of the lips. On a deep breath, she calmed her soaring emotions. This was not the time, nor the place for emotion. However moved by the letter, now was not the time for a feminine display of sensitivity.

Locking her emotions down, and folding the letter, she made her way further down the passage until she found a room full of commissioned officers.

She cleared her throat, and all eyes in the room averted their gaze to the entrance way. "Pardon me, I'm looking for Colonel Sink of the 506th ?" she enquired, forcing herself to make eye contact with each man present in the room and presently gawking at her.

This was a relatively typical response, she mused to herself, however it was one that she would never become accustomed to. She couldn't grasp why she received so much attention, regardless of the logical explanations of the few she called friends.

Yes, she was attractive, she knew this. Accepted it, but she didn't understand why she always garnered such looks from people. She wasn't sure whom she looked like, she had never known her mother and her father was a red haired, pale and freckled Scotsman. She, on the other hand was tall, much like her father, taller than the average female at 5'7, trim and athletic with long dark hair, porcelain toned skin that worshiped the sun, and a delicate splattering of freckles that only appeared in the summer months. She had pert, pouty lips, and a straight nose, one she thought too narrow for her face and high cheekbones. Her most defining feature, she thought, was her eyes. Green as emeralds and bewitching, as one of her former teachers had told her, with much scorn.

"Your eyes tell a different story Ms. MacLeod. You say one thing, but your eyes say another." The teacher had said, something that should had paid attention to. She made every attempt to hide her feelings, her true feelings. No, on one needed to know what was really going on in her mind, she needed to display nothing but cool, calm, confidence. Sentimentality was expected of a female, but Ana, she was a female officer in the Black Watch, a military unit of the Canadian Army that had earned such accolades during the First World War. No, she wouldn't show emotion that expected female vulnerability, she would be nothing but calm, cool and collected. She would do her father proud, she should do her unit proud.

"Ma'am, he is in the room at the end of the hall." Spoke a dark headed men, with dark, bushy eyebrows. She quickly turned her gaze to him, halting her survey of the room and drawing her out of her thoughts. She noted the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, like he knew her secret.

She gave him a brief half smile "Thank you. Pardon my intrusion." She turned and carried on down the hall in search of Colonel Sink.

* * *

"Who in the world was that?" Harry Welsh burst out, breaking the silence in the room of shocked men. He couldn't believe his eyes, when he had turned at the female voice from the doorway. He was even more blindsided by the decidedly dishevelled woman in uniform.

All eyes turned to Lewis Nixon, the intelligence officer in the room, and the man who was seemingly more in tuned to what was going on with the unit and the battalion.

"Well, I heard mention that we would be having a Canadian Officer join us, although I thought that was happening in England, and I thought it was a man. That was a woman, right?" he said scratching at his temple, after deliberating on his knowledge.

"Without a question, that was a woman. In uniform. Stunning woman, in uniform" Buck Compton spoke up. "Did you catch that breathy tone of her voice?"

"Well, whoever she is, it's not our concern. Let's just keep focused on what we need to do, and making sure the boys don't find trouble on this cruise."

Lewis nodded his head at his friend, Dick Winters, ever the voice of reason.

* * *

She stood outside the door, stealing herself with another deep breath, straightening her shoulders and inadvertently pushing out her chest, she stepped into the open door way, and was immediately noticed.

"Can I assist you?" spoke the snide voice of a tall, dark haired man with a huge nose. If he wasn't her superior, she would've stood their admiring the sheer size of it, just out of spite for the snarky tone of his voice. But, he was her superior, she could clearly see that, so she stood straighter, and saluted.

"Lieutenant Ana MacLeod, Canadian Army, First Battalion, Royal Canadian Highland Division." She said, keeping her eyes locked on his, with much effort, "I'm looking for Colonel Sink, I was told he was in this room."

She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn he sneered at her, as he looked her up and down. He made her skin crawl, but still, she stood up straight, her salute crisp waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"At ease." A friendly voice from behind him spoke. "Dismissed, Captain Sobel."

Ana dropped her arm slowly, with dignity. She was rather insulted by the man in front of her, but she had become accustomed to such treatment.

Taking a tentative step to her right to allow Captain Sobel to pass, and standing at ease, she was finally able to see the other man in the room.

"Welcome Lieutenant MacLeod." He said, looking at her with a cigar balanced between his lips. "Welcome aboard. Did you have much trouble getting here?"

"My train was a bit delayed sir, but no problems."

"Yes, Yes. That's fine. I'm glad you made it." He studied her for a moment longer before continuing. "I must admit, I was expecting a man, but now I'm not entirely surprised. Our secretaries back at Camp Toccoa were never the best at taking notation." He chuckled. "Regardless, you come highly recommended, and the powers that be at levels beyond my comprehension see fit to assign you to me, so…" he trailed off.

"Sir?" she inquired after a moment.

"I'm going to assign you to Easy Company, you'll report to Lieutenant Richard Winters. He is a stand up man. He'll get you squared away. We'll figure out the rest when we land in England."

"Thank you sir. Permission to speak?"

"Granted." He was curious to see what she had to say as he tried to remember the information that he had received about the officer that would be joining him from North of the border.

"I'd just like to be treated like one of the men. No different. No special treatment. I'm ready for whatever comes my way."

"Noted, Lieutenant. Go see Lieutenant Winters and get settled. It's going to be a long trip."

Ana sighed. It was apparent that no one saw fit to inform the Americans that they were getting a woman. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for that 'oversight', but knowing her commander, it wasn't an oversight at all. It was deliberate. Deliberate so that they would accept her into their ranks, but also creating the new found issue of having to continually explain herself.

She found Dick Winters with ease, he was in the room of men she had first encountered, but this time he had been alone.

The Colonel was accurate, she surmised. He was a kind man, and without any issues, or questions he got her situated with a bunk, in a room with all of the other officers. It was going to be crowded, and she knew she was the odd man out, well woman, she thought, making herself chuckle silently to herself.

The bunks were stacked four high, with very little room in between. She was lucky enough that there was an empty bunk at the very top of one of the rows. She dreaded the idea of being stuffed in one of the layers, with someone above and below her. A light sleeper, she had struggled the first few days of training, do to all the snoring, breathing and shuffling of her peers, but after a few days, she no longer had any issues, she was too exhausted to notice.

She was exhausted now, she had been travelling for more than forty eight hours, and had ran several kilometers to make the transport, and she decided it was time to take a break, maybe even a nap. Fate had other plans for her.

No sooner had she started to climb up to her newly acquired bunk did the heavy metal door slam, startling her, causing her to jump and loose her grip. She let out a small squeal and she found herself falling. She expected to hit the floor with a thud, but that never happened.

Oh, there was a thud, but it was the thud of her backside coming into contact with a firm chest, with two strong arms attached, that plucked her out of the hair, ending her quick descent to the metal floor of the ship.

Stunned for a moment, she looked up into the deepest brown eyes she had ever seen, and the poutiest lips she had ever seen on a man. He was handsome. She couldn't have imagined a more handsome face.

Involuntarily, Ana gasped at the sight of him, making eye contact, as a small shiver ran down her body.

Deadly. She thought. His eyes were lethal, and at that moment, in his arms, she felt distinctly like prey. Before she could move, he had released her from his grasp. Turned, and left the room.

She stood there, gawking at his hastily retreating form. He was gone before she could thank him, before she could find out his name.

* * *

I had had enough of socialising. I saw the Statue of Liberty as we passed, and couldn't help the brooding thoughts that came to my mind. Would this be the last time I saw home?

I was realistic enough to know that this was the last time most of the men on this ship, most of the men in my command would be seeing home.

I retreated quickly into the ship, entering the room I was to be sharing with my fellow officers, and there she was. The woman I had been studying earlier on deck. There she was, climbing up the bunks adjacent to the one I had claimed for myself.

I let go of the door, without much thought, and it slammed with such force, it caused the woman to jump and loose her grip. She was falling, but I was faster. I didn't even realise what I had done until she was in my arms, staring up at me with the greenest eyes I have ever seen.

She was only in my arms a moment, but I was blissfully, and painfully aware of her female form. She was light in my arms, surprisingly so, as she was quite tall for a woman. Her hair was soft, and tickled my neck, causing me to inhale her scent. I couldn't put my finger on what her smell was, but it was lovely.

But it was the eyes, the eyes were my undoing. I let her go, abruptly, turned and fled.

Me, Ronald Speirs, fleeing from a woman, no one would ever believe it, unless they saw it for themselves.

She was trouble, I could tell. Anything so sweetly packaged was only going to cause problems with the men. I needed to know immediately who she was, and who was tasked with her protection, I thought as I chewed my lip. With so many men, and so few females aboard, I wasn't entirely sure there were any other females, her presence would make the rounds quickly among the men. And bored men tended to do stupid things.

No, someone was surely assigned to watch out for her, whatever her name was.

I couldn't help but wonder why someone wasn't watching out for her sooner, why someone, whomever was tasked with her safety, a father, a brother, or god forbid a husband, hadn't protected her sooner. Why someone would left her ship off to a warzone.

I was going to get to the bottom of this, and I was going to do it now. And then I was going to forget all about her, the woman with the eyes as green as grass.

Christ, I was becoming a poet.


	3. Chapter 2

Idleness. Boredom. That's what a transatlantic cruise is, without the entertainment, and the expectation of frivolous adventure at the other end. This, this was an adventure, no one could deny that fact, but it was an adventure that no one really wanted. All because one little egotistical megalomaniac had the nerve to break the Treaty of Versailles, a treaty that so many men had given their lives to accomplish.

Hitler, she mused, an interesting character if someone had the time and the inclination to psycho analyze him. He was someone that could keep a team of psychologists incredibly busy, for a very long time. She had to wonder what Doctor Freud would say about him? She often wondered what Doctor Freud would say about her.

He would think her crazy, she knew this. Most people did. She could never clearly explain the path she chose for herself, when her path was already paved in gold. Solid gold. Her father, rest his soul, had had to pull a lot strings to provide his daughter the opportunity to attend medical school. There was no denying that once she was there, it was where she belonged. She was the only woman in her class, her year, for that matter in the University. Like all things in her life she had relished the challenge. But then, the world changed, seemingly overnight.

No, it wasn't overnight at all, there were subtle signs of the things to come from the moment that short little man started spewing his particular brand of hate and propaganda in Bavarian pubs.

She hated hate. She couldn't help but laugh at that thought. What a contradiction. She was in turmoil over it. Hating hate. She'd rather love, love. Was she prepared to fire her weapon? Could she possibly take another life? Could she live with herself? Could she make a decision to take a life to save her own life? That was the question most soldiers were asking themselves. For most it was black and white. It was their duty to win the war, and winning the war demanded taking life. However, for her, she was trained to save life, to preserve, to love life. To love humanity and war went against all of her beliefs.

Fucking Hitler, she thought. This was a thought that occurred to her at least every hour over the last year of training.

Training had been brutal, but she welcomed it. She had lost her father, not long after she had been admitted to medical school, and had used her family name to gain entrance into the prestige Black Watch of the Royal Highlanders It helped that her father had been a favorite of the Commander. Her father had saved the Commander after the drawn out offensive at Vimy Ridge in 1917. She could only image what her father would have to say if he had lived to see the breakout of the war, it would've been the second time in his lifespan to endure global conflict.

No, she was grateful her father hadn't lived to see the onslaught of global conflict once again. She could vividly remember the way his eyes would glaze over when memories would attack him. Memories that he couldn't, or wouldn't share, she wasn't sure. She knew that they had to be awful because she could recall countless nights of waking up to his screams, painful pitiful moans as he tossed and turned from nightmares.

For the life of her though, she couldn't understand why someone who had endured battle during the First World War would go ahead and instigate a Second? Hitler had to be batshit crazy, she deduced, and she really would love to hear what Freud had to say. She decided, she would ask him if she ever made it to Vienna.

Europe, she thought, too bad it would not be quite like she had imagined. London would not be the city that Jane Austen had described, nor would the people. They had endured lengthy periods of incessant bombings by the Luftwaffe and had suffered tremendous loss of life. Food shipments to England were being sunk by German U-boats in the Atlantic almost daily. Things were bleak.

Still, she hoped that there would be an opportunity to see a bit of the country. She hoped she even had time to make it to her family's ancestral home in Scotland. She had promised her father that she would make the trip sometime in her life. She had something she needed to do for him, something she had promised and she fully intended to keep her promise. She owed him that much. She just had to make it across the Atlantic.

With a sigh, she turned her attention to the men around her, to the conversation they were having. Seemed they were very engrossed in a conversation about a commanding officer, paying little attention to her as she had tucked herself into her bunk after her brief encounter with Tall, Dark and Handsome as she had nicknamed him.

She casually surveyed the room for him, but he wasn't present, at least as far as her line of sight could see. The thought of him gave her slight goosebumps as she recalled the look in his brown eyes when he had looked down at her. It was like he could see right through her. Right through her carefully crafted façade. She certainly hoped he couldn't. That none of them could. She didn't need them knowing how truly terrified and conflicted she was about the war, and what she had signed up to do.

Well, what she signed up to do may not be completely in line with what Colonel Sink would decide she was going to do. It had all gotten so messed up. She never imagined she would be assigned to an American outfit, no, she fully intended to serve with the men she had trained with, the unit her father had so bravely served.

No fate, much like Adolf Hitler had other plans for her and many millions of people.

Fucking Hitler.

She wasn't surprised when lieutenant Winters noticed her paying attention to their conversation, and cleared his throat, throwing his gaze obviously in her direction, in an almost silent command for the others to stop the current conversation.

"No, please carry on. I'd like to hear this" she said, already feeling like she knew precisely who they were talking about, but she wasn't entirely sure. She needed to hear more so she could prepare herself. It was evident this man was in command of Winters, and Winters, although having respect for his senior officer was in no way confident of the man's ability. That was not a good sign. If he was Winters senior officer than he would be hers as well. She had to know in advance what the playing field was.

"He can't read a map. Every time we are in the field, he gets jumpy and men die." Someone said referring to training exercises.

"Can you read a map, doll?" another man said, directing his question at her.

She nodded in his direction, ignoring the endearment. Sometimes you had to pick your battles, and she knew that this was a battle not worth fighting. She had endured years of pet names while at University, she hardly paid them any mind anymore.

"Yes, I can. I'm a Canadian after all. I had to trek 8 kilometers through the woods to and from school." She said, on a wry smile. She was being sweetly sarcastic.

"Kilometers?" Lewis Nixon, Dick had introduced him earlier spoke up with an equally wry smile.

"Oh I'm sorry, that's right, I'm the odd one out here. Let's say 4.25 miles." She laughed.

Breaking the ice, she thought, that's what she needed to do to be accepted into their ranks. She needed to be conversational, have them forget she was a woman. She needed them to be comfortable around her, and that included blending in so that they would carry on conversing as men do, even if she had to endure conversations that made her ears blush.

"Have you met Captain Sobel yet?" Winters asked her carefully.

"Unfortunately. He was present when I found Colonel Sink." She said before she could think of her answer. Damnit, sometimes her mouth got the better of her.

They all chuckled.

"Oh?" Nixon asked, imploring for more details.

"To be honest, I've been around a lot of men in the last few years, in men only environments, and he was the first to make my skin crawl. Not to be rude, but I felt like a piece of meat." She said with more open honesty than she had expected to share with these men so early on. Normally not her style, but after hearing bits and pieces of the conversation, she figured she could trust them with that information, because they had shared with her things that should not be repeated. She was building trust.

"Be careful around him." A voice said from the corner. "He is a loose cannon, and wouldn't want to see you get caught in the crossfire."

She looked around trying to spot the speaker, but she couldn't see him, he really was in the perfect position out of her line of sight.

"Thank you, but there is no need to worry. I can handle any situation." She said almost defensively to the voice that was too cowardly to step out of the shadows.

She heard footfalls and the man behind the voice had left.

"You should be careful with him," Lewis Nixon said, eyeing her.

"Who? Sobel, or whomever that was?" She said.

"Both." Every man in the room responded.

She chuckled, she didn't know what else to do.

* * *

The next few days, went smoothly, much to her relief. She was exhausted, and smelly, and she wanted off that ship. She wanted a few minutes of privacy to shower and change her clothes, and what she really wanted was a good night's sleep.

Sleeping had proved to be incredibly difficult on the ship. Because there was really nothing to do all day, she was idle and bored, she wasn't tired enough at night to fall asleep. The noises on board drove her crazy. At night, she would escape to the deck, and watch the stars in the sky. How she loved watching the night sky and it was so incredibly clear at sea.

It was like being the only person in the world, when she was on deck at night, alone with her thoughts and the stars. Well, mostly alone anyways. There was always a soldier around, smoking a cigarette, or throwing up over the side of the railing. She was able to ignore them in the darkness.

At night she could imagine, without the fear of being caught, just what life could have been.

Would she have married already? Probably not, she couldn't help but laugh at that. She had spent so much time buried in her studies prior to the break out of war that she never made time for courting. She had never even been kissed by a man. Would she ever be kissed by a man? Fall in love?

She certainly hoped so as her thoughts drifted to the mysterious man that had caught her, but she had not seen again, since. She assumed he came to bed late at night, after she had already left the room to star gaze. She wondered if she returned now, if he would be there.

* * *

Ronald Speirs was becoming very good at lingering in the shadows. She never knew he was there. He would watch her, day and night, her silent protector in the shadows. Oh, when he overheard men talking about her, all he had to do was fire them off one of his famous stares, and they would quickly avert their eyes and go on their way.

Oh yes, he was Sparky for a reason, and tonight he was particularly on fire. He was angry. Angry that he couldn't stop watching her, worrying about her. He knew nothing about her, had only heard a few conversations that she had partook in while he was present, but he had to admire her.

She was brave, if not a bit stupid, he decided. Brave for being here. And stupid for the same reason. He was annoyed with her for spending her nights on deck, when she should be in a bunk in the room with the officers, in a room where she would be safe. No, she was not safe on deck, there was always a soldier around who may notice her. Notice her, and over power.

Yes, he was becoming slightly obsessive in his need to know where she was. He fucking hated it.

But he had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and that she was still wearing her dress uniform. He had noticed that she hardly ate. He wondered what could possibly be going on in that mind of hers.

All he had to do was ask. Walk over to her, offer her a cigarette, sit down and talk to her. He could satisfy his curiosity about her, and then he would be over it. But no, he just couldn't bring himself to walk over there.

Truth be told, if he could be honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to look into those eyes again, and hear her voice directed only at him. He wasn't sure he wanted to be that close to her. He had a feeling that she would not disappoint him by being some silly nit wit of a woman. No, he was scared she was the full meal deal and once he opened Pandora's Box there was no going back.

No, he would not approach her, not tonight anyway. He would remain steadfast and vigilant in the shadows, because tomorrow they would be in England.

Pandora and her Box would have to wait for another day. Another lifetime he thought sarcastically, dropping his cigarette. Not the time or the place, he thought.

He was about to walk away, further down the deck, but still with her within his sights, but not so close that the temptation to sit with her was overwhelming. But he stopped. He heard her soft voice, not quite singing, not quite talking. It drew him in and he got a little closer, still remaining in the shadows.

"When you wish upon a star

Makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires

Will come to you

If your heart is in your dream

No request is too extreme

When you wish upon a star

As dreamers do

Fate is kind

She brings to those to love

The sweet fulfillment of

Their secret longing

Like a bolt out of the blue

Fate steps in and sees you through

When you wish upon a star

Your dreams do come true"

Her voice was but a whisper, but it carried to his ears with ease on the still dark night, and brought a shiver down his spine. It was like she was speaking so gently to him. He couldn't help himself, he sighed.

"Who's there? Show yourself?" Her voice called out softly, her eyes darting around in her dark surroundings, forcing him to quickly retreat further into the darkness.

Someone was there, she was sure of it. She had heard a deep intake of breath, and then nothing. No one, just the shadows of the night and her ever thinking brain.

She remained on deck relishing in her solitude the remainder of the night, and as dawn broke she could see the Island of England. She admired the cliffs and the beaches as they sailed to port.

Much to her relief her arrival in Aldbourne was a lot less chaotic than her arrival in New York. No mad dashes to be on time. She was grateful for this. She was sure she didn't have the energy to run after anything, even for her own life at this point. No, all she wanted was to be situated where she would be sleeping, have a shower, wash her hair, by this point she was sure was a bedraggled mess, and put on clean clothing. She was a little disappointed in herself for not asking some of the men to watch the door so she could have a few minutes alone in the room to change her clothes during the cruise. No, pride wouldn't allow her to do that, shame even. No, she wasn't ashamed at being a woman, but she was ashamed that she required special consideration. She was hell bent on being just one of the men.

A hot shower, a cup of tea and something to eat and then she was going to bed. In bed, she decided, she would remain until duty required her to emerge. She hoped that was at least 12 hours later.

She wasn't so lucky. No sooner had she squared herself away, take a shower, and pulled her long hair into a braid, was there a knock on her door. She had been given a small room in the building where the officers were lodged. She had her own small bathroom, which was a blessing in disguise. She knew this room was intended for a higher ranking officer, and in this situation probably should have been Winter's room, but he had assigned it to her. She was grateful, but wouldn't say anything. She had nodded her thanks to Winters, and that was enough, she didn't want to embarrass either of them for what she knew was special treatment.

"Yes?" She called to the door as she quickly knelt down to tie her boots.

"Captain Sobel wants us in formation in five minutes" Winters said, with disdain in his voice, regardless of how much he tried to keep it hidden.

She had observed Winters to be one hell of a man so far. He was intelligent, this was clear, but he was very much aware that there was nothing they could do. It had been his advice to everyone, on numerous occasions when the whining about Sobel started that, all they could do was train the men, give the men the best possible chance, even in the leader was an imbecile.

Dick Winters was too much a man, too polite and respectful to say something directly about his superior officer, but you couldn't help but interpret his thoughts.

She finished tying her boots, and opened the door to Dick while securing her cap.

"What's he got planned?" she asked eyeing Dick. This would be her second encounter with Sobel, and she had hoped to postpone it until she had had a bit of rest.

"I don't know Ana. The men are cranky."

"I bet they are, so am I." she said giving him a light hearted smile. "Let's just get this over with."

"Here, here. Be careful with him." Dick said as they exited the barracks.

She turned her head to him and gave him a lopsided grin, the sunshine catching the auburn in her hair.

"I'm always careful." She said on a deep laugh, her grin widening, earning a smile from Winters.

Sobel had them assemble only to relay that they would be commencing further training in the morning and that they were advised to get a good meal and a long rest. It was a big waste of time and effort, for the officers to gather the hotel company when all he had to do was send a runner to inform the officers who would inform the men.

Ana loathed people who wasted others time. Tine was too precious, too valuable to be wasted for petty insignificant shows of power. Sobel had to be related to Hitler she thought, as she stood up tall in formation. She couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at her lips. Instantly she regretted her thoughts.

"Lieutenant MacLeod is there something amusing?" Sobel shouted as he stopped in front of her.

"No Sir" she responded calmly, silently cursing her mind for drifting.

He looked her up and down, again with that ugly sneer on his face. "Lieutenant MacLeod, I don't dare ask how you managed to finagle your way into my unit, nor how the Canadians allowed you in, but one could guess." He said, insinuating something so disturbing and embarrassing Ana couldn't help but blush.

"You don't have me fooled girl." He said walking away from her. "I will not have you disrupting my company. You will fit in, and you will follow my orders to the letter."

"Yes sir."

"And when I say stand at attention, I mean stand at Attention. Are you in the proper dress for this occasion?" he sneered eyeing her once again.

She didn't know how to respond to that. She was a Canadian Officer and wearing the only uniform she had befitting the occasion. She quickly took in the men in her peripheral vision, yes she was dressed the same, her uniform was just different.

"Sir, this is the combat uniform of the Canadian Army, sir, and the only uniform I have."

He glared at her. "I wasn't talking about your Uniform."

"Sir?" She questioned.

"You will, make every attempt to blend in with the men, and not give them anything to look at." He said speaking down his nose to her, eyeing her chest.

Oh. She quickly realised what he was referring to. Something she could do nothing about. Her breasts.

"Sir, if the men find my breasts a distraction, I suggest they stop looking. Sir." She said angrily, before she could stop herself.

He turned red with anger, and she thought for sure he would strike her. But he didn't. He stomped away "Dismissed".

She breathed a sigh of relief, and felt herself slump. Ignoring the other officers and the men, she quickly retreated to the barracks and her room.

She needed sleep if that was the type of attitude she would be dealing with. She needed to be on the ball to handle Sobel.

The men were right, he was dangerous and she did need to be careful. She didn't like the way he looked at her. The rest of the company was curious, she could tell, but they didn't look at her like she was a meal and they were starving. No, Sobel was something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on what, but there was something off about him.

She made quick work of her uniform and quickly tucked herself in. She ignored the knock on the door, and the lunch invitation, and then a few hours later, dinner invitation and just slept.

That's all she wanted.


	4. Chapter 3

Training was rigorous, and the weather was inhospitable. It wasn't snowing and frightfully cold like home, but it was dreary and grey, and almost always raining. The rain had a way of soaking you to the bone, setting a chill into your body like no other. She almost wished it was -40 and blizzarding, at least she was used to it.

The fall came and went in a blink of an eye with continuous training exercises and weekend passes revoked. She still had no idea what the plan for her was within the unit, however she was included in all training exercises whether she wanted to be or not, and Sobel pushed her hard. She was always exhausted.

Sobel proved to be a difficult character, and Ana did everything in her power to avoid any unnecessary interaction with him. He was useless in the field. An excellent trainer, a slave driver even, but absolutely useless as a combat CO. He was jumpy and he would get many men killed if he couldn't learn to use a compass and hold his shit together.

Ana had expressed this concern to Dick and Lewis one evening, and no one disagreed with her. And then the drama with Winters and Sobel unfolded. The court martial, and all the NCO's attempting to resign. It was a huge mess, and Ana was relieved when nothing major came of it. Well, other than Sobel being relieved of his command of Easy Company and being shipped to a jump school at Chilton Foliat.

It was a whole new chapter in their deployment. All of a sudden she had spare time, all of a sudden those weekend passes were no longer being revoked and she could finally get out and see a bit of the English country side, she could finally interact a bit with the men she was to serve with.

On this particular evening in December, just before Christmas she found herself in the local pub in Aldbourne with the NCO's having a beer. She wasn't much of a drinker, and really didn't like the taste of beer, but she wasn't going to be rude and decline the drink offered to her, nor the opportunity to get to know the men better, on a more personal level. Clearly they were interested in getting to know her better as well.

"You have a very elegant accent Lieutenant. Do all Canadians have one?" Donald Malarkey inquired, not the least bit shy.

"Accent?" She chuckled, giving him an easy smile. "I have no accent. It's you boys that have the accent." She said with a laugh. "No, I suppose I do, since I don't come from South Philly." She winked at Bill Guarnere.

He laughed. "You sure do, all prim and proper."

"Ana…uhh, Lieutenant….Lieutenant Ana" Shifty Powers started, stumbling on his tongue and turning crimson.

He was endearing Ana decided, sweet and a bit shy. She needed to put him at ease. "When we are out socially, you can call me Ana, or Green it's up to you. I'll respond to either. On base, Lieutenant MacLeod." She said giving Shifty a reassuring smile.

"Why Green?" Perconte interjected before Shifty could continue his question.

"It's my middle name." she laughed, averting her gaze back to Shifty and giving him an encouraging smile. "What were you going to say Shifty?"

"Oh, Lieutenant, I mean Ana, I was wondering where you grew up?" he said after a moment of hesitation.

"Well, the last year and abet have been spent training in Ontario, just above Michigan, and in Nova Scotia. My father was originally from there, but we spent most of my childhood in the Wild West. Before the war I was at University in Montreal. So I guess, I'm from all over."

"A pretty girl like you in University?" Joy Toye asked with humour sparkling in his eye, but it was a seriously asked question.

"Well, Joe, even pretty girls have brains." She answered with a chuckle.

"What does your fellow think of you being over here with us?" Guarnere asked, feeling slightly protective of her.

"Fellow?" she asked confused.

"Don't you have a sweetheart?" Malarkey asked, hoping beyond hope that he didn't just put his foot in his mouth. The Canadians had been fighting alongside the British for some time already.

"I never had time." Was her simple answer, as she turned her gaze back to her beer, and withdrew a little from the conversation.

"Ana!" Lewis Nixon exclaimed drawing her attention. "Come join us!" he said motioning to a table in the corner where he and Dick had sat down.

"Looks like you're in demand. Go on." Guarnere said giving her a nudge. He could tell she was a bit out of sorts all of a sudden.

Nodding her head, Ana stood and bid the men a good night and headed over to Dick and Lewis.

"Gents." She said, sitting herself down between the two men at the table.

"How's your night Ana? We didn't see you at dinner." Dick commented with a lighthearted smile as he sipped at his drink. She was positive it was water. She had heard the men mentioning that Winters didn't drink or smoke, and that maybe he was a Quaker.

"My night is going just fine, can't complain when I'm in such good company." She smiled, a devilish twinkle in her eye. "I skipped dinner to forage for food here in town. Sorry, but if I have the opportunity for a decent meal over military slop…..well…" she trailed off with a chuckle.

"Next time, you take us with you!" Nixon said on a laugh, silently kicking himself for not thinking of that option sooner.

"Well, now you know my secret."

"What other secrets are you hiding?" Lew asked with a mischievous wink. "Are you secretly married, and joined the army so you could go and find your long lost love on the battlefield?" he couldn't help but laugh at that, and neither could she.

"Sadly, never married and no long lost love. I fear, my life is rather less dramatic and exciting." She nodded, her gaze catching site of someone watching her intently out of the corner of her eye. He was partially obstructed by other men and local women, but she could see, clearly, he was staring at her, almost like he was straining to hear the conversation from several paces away.

"Who is that man standing there in the corner? Brown hair, tall. Wait, don't turn around, just be casual." She said to Lew and Dick in a whisper.

Feeling like he was in on a secret, Lew couldn't help but whisper back, "That's Lieutenant Speirs, Dog Company. Have you two met?"

"No, not formally." She said her eyes secretly appraising him as he stared holes into her.

"RON! Come over here!" Lew hollered so abruptly Ana nearly jumped out of her skin. Thoroughly embarrassed, a deep pink blush started to creep up the neck of her blouse, to take up residence on her cheeks.

Speirs, made his way over to the table, and Ana couldn't bring herself to make eye contact with him, not with her cheeks flaming red. He would know they had been talking about him, he would know she had inquired, he would know she had said she had not been formally introduced. She was thoroughly embarrassed even though she had no reason to be.

"Lieutenant Ronald Speirs meet Lieutenant Ana MacLeod. She's joined us from the Canadians." Lew said, offering a brief interaction and forcing Ana to stand and extend her hand to Speirs, her gaze shifting up from her hand to his face, wondering when he would grasp her hand in his. He didn't.

"Oh yes, we've met sort of. Your rear met my chest on the ship." Ron said dryly, eyeing her hand like it was the plague, and avoiding looking at her face at all costs. "I would say it's nice to meet you, but I would be joking. Sorry guys, my date has just arrived."

Ana was in shock. He had been so rude and crude, and had flat out rejected her hand. The embarrassment she felt was all of a sudden overwhelming. She bid goodnight to Lewis and Dick saying that she was exhausted and her dinner wasn't sitting well. She suspected they knew she was lying, but they wouldn't press the subject. Speirs had been incredibly brash and rude with her, and she probably needed some space to, do what girls did. Neither one of them was really sure what exactly that was.

She left the pub, with a quick glance at Ronald Speirs, she couldn't help herself. Her eyes were drawn to the insufferable jerk. Shaking her head as he caught her looking, she forced her gaze away, fought back tears of embarrassment and high tailed it out of the little brick pub.

Once outside in the cool night air, she kicked off her shoes and started to run. The tears had started to flow down her cheeks, she needed to be as far away from the men, the people, everyone and anybody as fast as she could. She needed far away from the man who had been playing the role of prince charming in her nights dreams since the first day on the ship.

With a moan of frustration, and a silent curse as she stubbed her toe on the uneven cobblestone and stumbled to her knees.

She was so mad. Mad with herself for asking who he was. Mad that he would no longer be the man she dreamed of. Mad that he obviously didn't like her, hated her even with the way he spoke, how he treated her.

She cried, harder and harder, her mind wandering to all of the things that lead her to this point in her life. She cried because she knew he would still be the man in her dreams. He was the only man she had ever dreamed about, and she cried because she wondered if he would be the last? She hated that idea, a man who hated her being the man she dreamed about.

Fucking Hitler, and this Fucking war, she thought, as the tears ran down her cheeks, her sobs had subsided and shivers from the cold ground racked her body. She needed to get up, get moving back to base. She had too much pride to be caught.

…

He had followed her of course. It was the only sane thing an insane man could do after quite obviously hurting a woman he never wanted to hurt. He hadn't been prepared for Nix to call him over to the table, hadn't realised he had been caught staring until that moment. He had been watching her happily from his perch in the corner of the dark pub. She had been smiling and laughing and engaging in quality social time with the men, something he had rarely seen her do.

She was a vision when she smiled. Her eyes sparkled, and the dimple in her cheek peeked out. She crinkled her nose when she was deep in thought, a trait he adored. And she was always deep in thought. She was kind, warm and welcoming with the men, and they in turn treated her like priceless china. She was, as far as he was concerned, priceless china. She needed to be on a pedestal, she needed to be taken care of and worshipped. She did not belong with them, she didn't belong in England getting ready to invade Europe. She just didn't belong. And he so much as told her. Not in the way he would've wanted. She didn't understand where he was coming from. He had been rude, and very harsh, and had kicked himself immediately for it.

The date was just a reason to get away from her before he pulled her into his arms and apologised for being an asinine asshole.

Her soft cries, and tears tore him apart. He never expected such a strong reaction to his words. She was crying her heart out, softly, with decorum. He never thought a woman in the throes of a tantrum whether angry or hurt would be something he thought elegant. He shook his head at the notion and realised he truly was going crazy. Crazy for this woman.

He had obviously hit a nerve, a very raw nerve and now he didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to tell her he was sorry for what he said and that he absolutely didn't mean it. But then, he didn't want to cause her anymore discomfort by being caught by him in the middle of crying.

He was at a crossroads, quite literally. He didn't know which way to go.

…

Someone was there, on the road with me. I could sense their presence, and could hear the soft sound of breathing, they weren't that far away. I shivered, this time not from the cold, and all the little hairs on my body stood up in fear.

"I know you are here…. Show yourself." I called out softly into the quiet night, my voice coming out a bit hoarse from fear. Fuck, I thought, I couldn't be scared, I was going to war in the near future.

Silence. I didn't hear the person leaving, no footfalls, and I could still hear the even breathing.

"Show yourself, or, or, I'm leaving." I whispered, not knowing exactly what to say or do. I was prepared to run.

There was no answer. I ran.

…

I slept fitfully that night, thankful that Sunday there would be no training exercises. Even more thankful to discover breakfast in the mess was palatable, and that very, very few of the men were up and about after a night out in Aldbourne. I was alone in the mess, sipping on my tea and moving eggs around my plate. I was fairly certain these were not real eggs, real in the sense that they came from a chicken directly to my plate. The texture was off, a bit too gritty.

I needed to toughen up. I thought I was already pretty tough, made of stern stuff. I was raised to be tough, unflinching, and yet I had something in me that I couldn't put my finger on, that just made me soft. Being a female I mused, hormones, as the men would say.

I was deep in thought when I heard a chair shuffle, and someone sit down across from me. Looking up over my tea cup, I found myself looking into the eyes of Ronald Speirs.

Oh great, here goes my day, was the first thought that came to my mind, and then he smiled. Off course the devil on my shoulder has to smile at me from such a handsome package.

I didn't know what to do. Should I say something? I could see that I was the only one in the mess, and he quite possibly only sat down at my table so it wouldn't look odd. But, who would've really noticed? We were alone, for the most part other than the mess staff.

I returned his smile with a timid smile of my own, and quickly downed the last of my tea, burning my throat slightly. Coughing, "Enjoy your breakfast Lieutenant."

I got up, collected my tray, and started to leave, applauding myself for handling the moment so well.

"Lieutenant MacLeod…" he called from behind me.

I didn't turn to meet his gaze, but continued placing my tray in the dish bin. "Mmm?" I said, focused entirely on what I was doing.

"You really don't belong here." He said in a soft tone.

I turned abruptly to look at him, my long brown hair whirling around my shoulders. I hadn't bothered to style it this morning.

"I have every right to be here." I said, my voice just above a whisper, holding no anger or malice, just withdrawn disinterest.

I was just about to walk out the door, when I heard him say "Whoever let you go should be shot."

…

She was absolutely stunning, sitting there alone, sipping her tea, and moving piles of eggs aimlessly around her plate. She looked tired, a bit pale and I could see her eyes were slightly red and swollen. My fault, most likely. Her hair was loose and flowed down her shoulders in long curls and waves. It looked so soft in the morning sunlight.

We were the only two people in the mess and she hadn't even noticed me come in, giving me the opportunity to study her without anyone noticing. Even her, I mused. Must be some deep thoughts, or a really great daydream, I mused pouring myself a cup of coffee, and getting my plate.

My feet had a mind of their own, and before I knew it I was standing in front of her. Still, she didn't notice me. I admired the color of her hair up close, and before I could stop myself I had pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up. Her eyes, startled like a deer in the headlights were a sight I am positive I will never forget. My mother always talked about the green hills of Scotland, where I was born, and I could never quite imagine such a green. Her eyes, I was now certain were exactly the green my mom spoke of. I couldn't stop the smile that touched my lips.

Warning bells were going off in my head. I should leave, right now. My feet felt like lead, and I thought my heart would beat out of my chest, just at my proximity to her. I could see I made her uncomfortable, and I regretted even more than I already did my harshness to her the previous evening. She choked down the remainder of her beverage and swallowed her eggs, and stood.

"Lieutenant Speirs. Enjoy your day." She said, her voice just above a whispered. That soft, delicate and cultured voice I had heard numerous times, but this time it was just for me. I shivered slightly as she turned her back to me.

I was going to let her go, again. I ought to let her go, but again, like an out of body experience that I was frequently having with her nearby, "Lieutenant MacLeod…." I trailed off, not intending to speak and certainly not knowing what exactly to say.

I couldn't stop the softening of my tone; I wasn't even aware that I possessed such a tone.

She didn't turn to me, but made a very delicate sound, that gave me thoughts that I wasn't proud of, all things considered. We weren't even on speaking terms, and immediately my brain was thinking about getting her alone, in a bed, and bare naked, and making said sound. Of course, she would be looking at me, intently, with those beautiful green eyes.

Stop it Ron. I chided myself. Stop. In another time and another life, but not now, not here, and not right now.

"You don't belong here."

She whirled around, her green eyes flashing, in a spectacular show of emotion "I have every right to be here."

She was leaving and I couldn't help myself, I couldn't stop the thoughts in my head. Again, I couldn't fathom what moron let her go. What moron would let her, she who should be someone's pride and joy go off to war. "Whoever let you go should be shot." I hadn't intended to say it out loud.

She stopped in her tracks. She had heard me.

"No one let me go Lieutenant Speirs. Some of us have no one." She said in a whisper, very little could hid the evidence of tears from her voice.

My heart broke for her, in that moment, it broke. Another occurrence I wasn't sure was possible. It had to be this war, I decided. Fucking Hitler.

I finished my eggs as quickly as I could, and couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. No wonder she had choked, the eggs were army awful. And that was being generous. With renewed purpose to my day, I left the mess with a sense of excitement.

I was going to find out everything possible about the mysterious Canadian Lieutenant who had taken up residence in every waking and resting moment of my life.

I was about to open Pandora's box, and this time common sense wasn't going to win.

…

The offices were dead, making it very easy for me to walk in and procure her file from a hung over looking clerk. I took her file, and went and found a quite spot to read it in privacy.

Name: MacLeod, Ana Green

Serial Number: CA-84621238

Rank: Lieutenant, 1st Battalion, Royal Canadian Highland Division

Commander: HRH King George VI

Age: 22

Born: January 4, 1921

Location: Unknown.

Mother: Unknown

Father: Captain Alexander MacLeod, 1st Battalion, Royal Highland Division. Battalion surgeon. Served 1914 – 1917

Next of Kin: None. See special file D6437.

I was confused, immediately upon reading her file. How could someone not know who their mother was, let alone where they were born? No next of kin?

My curiosity was raging out of control, and I really wanted to seek her out, and ask her about this. But I couldn't do that. She couldn't know that I had pulled her file, for no other reason than to know her better. All I had were more questions and no way of finding out the answers.

I would have to get to know her, become her friend, I thought, and instantly laughed, out loud, like a crazy person. I drew looks, but then I always did. The men didn't look at me long, they recognized me instantly, averted their eyes and kept going. I grinned. Sparky, the alter ego I had implemented for myself was doing its job.

When in war, I mused, you do what you have to do, to do the things you never thought you could. Being Sparky was my way of coping. Of being whom I needed to be to survive. Who my men needed me to be.

…

I was determined not to let him ruin my day. I went back to my room and took a shower, dressed myself in civilian clothes and left the base. I was bound and determined to find something to distract me. I found church.

Not being particularly religious, I was surprised I found myself walking into the little brick church. It looked welcoming, I decided. No, I didn't particularly believe in god. I believed in science. Religion and science were a direct contradiction to each other. My father and I would spend hours discussing this very topic, and I was never entirely sure if my view on religion was completely my own, or so deeply influenced by my father's logic. Regardless, I respected both science and religion, the need to believe in a higher power. It was this belief in the higher power that would keep a lot of these men sane during the coming months.

I found myself sitting in a pew in the very back, completely unnoticed. I enjoyed the music, and the prayers for the men serving, fighting this war. I couldn't help the thoughts of Fucking Hitler that ran through my head.

There was a christening of a baby after the service. It made me smile, hopeful. Even in these tough times, people were still having babies. That was a good sign. The world would need to rebuild itself after this insanity ended, and it would be the job of the next generation to see to it, to ensure the mistakes of the two previous generations didn't happen again.

Babies brought hope.

A romantic notion, I knew. But the truth, nonetheless.

I wandered back to the base, deep in my thoughts, completely oblivious to my surroundings. I was at peace with myself for the time being, full of renewed hope.

Not even Hitler could take away the good mood I was in.

"Hey Ana!" Lew called out to me as I passed him.

I stopped, and turned to him. "Hello!" I called, a little embarrassed to have been caught unaware, and in my civilian clothes. Nothing fancy, but completely different from my uniforms.

"Where have you been?" he asked gripping my elbow gently and leading me in another direction, "Sink called a surprise meeting, we've bene waiting for you. No one knew where you went!"

"A meeting? I went to church. Do I have time to change?" I asked, a bit panicked about facing all officers without my uniform to hide behind.

"Nope missy. Let's go." He said.

Crap.

…


	5. Chapter 4

…

Without my uniform I had nothing to hide behind. No layer of courage to mask my fear, what was truly going on inside of me. For the first time in a while I was insecure and terrified. I was so blatantly a woman in my civilian clothes, and they would all see me as one. I had been trying very hard to blend in. Now I was going to be on full display. And he would be there. He would see me. He would see me for what I am, a lamb in sheep's clothing. A vulnerable little girl in a mans world.

I didn't realise I was shaking as Nix dragged me along, until he gave me a look, and told me to relax. I guess he thought I was scared of being reprimanded for being off base. No, that wasn't it. This was an impromptu meeting, I couldn't have anticipated it.

Oh, if he only knew. I thought, bracing myself for what was to come.

To say that all eyes were on me upon our entrance would be an understatement. It felt like even the walls had eyes. I felt gazes drifting up and down my appearance, only few of the men having the decency to look away quickly instead of perusing my form. I blushed, uncontrollably, and looked at the floor.

Colonel Sink wasn't one to waste time on formalities, thank god. And so, with the attention shifting from me to the Colonel I was able to gather my wits and focus on what was being said.

"We will be mobilising to Uppottery at 0500 on Tuesday. All men, and women of the regiment will be given leave from Thursday 1500 hours until 0500 on Tuesday. They will be ready and waiting to load into trucks." Sink said, lighting a cigar. "On Wednesday, at 1130 there will be a ceremonial parade and inspection of the troops by the King. I expect all men to be clean shaven and uniformed immaculately" he finished, looking at me over his nose with a sly wink. "Questions?"

"Permission to speak Sir?" Dick started, deep in thought but ever so polite. He was thinking what I was thinking, but I wasn't about to kick a gift horse in the mouth. "Is it a good idea to give the men such a lengthy leave? They deserve it, absolutely…but…" he trailed off, obviously imagining all the shenanigans the men could find themselves in.

"I hear you Lieutenant. This order comes from above me. Read them the riot act. That's all we can do." Sink said, obviously displeased. He looked around the room, silently asking if there were any further questions. There were none. "Dismissed."

…

Leave. Finally. After all these months of being so close and yet so very far. I knew what I had to do, and it involved a quick escape from the men before I was dragged into plans that I would have to decline and most likely explain why.

I had better plans then anything they could concoct.

I didn't even acknowledge Dick and Lew or the others as we left Sink's office. I needed to go back into the village and make my arrangements.

I would take the train from Aldbourne to Glasgow and from there I would take a bus and ferry to reach my destination, the ancestral home of my family, Dunvegan Castle.

Purchasing the ticket was no issue, I knew exactly what I needed, and I knew the time tables. Being nothing less than organized it had been one of the first things I had done with my free time. I knew exactly how long the journey would take, down to the second, and knew precisely how long I would have to put the pieces.

The missing pieces of my life. My father always said I would find them at Dunvegan. It was his answer from the time I could start asking questions. It had been his dying wish, the last words to pass his lips, a single word spoken in a whisper for my ears only. Dunvegan.

…

The days went by slowly. Oh, we were incredibly active with our preparations for departure, but my mind was elsewhere.

My distraction did not go unnoticed, and both Dick and Lew assumed I was ill. They had casually attempted to extricate information from me over lunch, as I sat daydreaming.

"Ana, are you sure you are ok? You don't have a fever or anything? Nix asked eyeing me gently, his concern was evident.

"I'm fine Nix. Please." I said, with a sigh.

"You haven't been yourself." Dick muttered.

"I'm sorry, I've been a bit distracted with some family issues." I said averting my eyes a blush creeping to my cheeks with my lie. It wasn't a complete lie, it was partially true. A white lie. A lie was still a lie, my father would have scolded, regardless of the intent.

"Oh. Anything you want to talk about?" Nix asked, concern spiking. They weren't aware that she was alone in the world like Speirs. They knew her father had passed, but they assumed that she had siblings and extended family.

"No. I'm sorry. I'll be better after this leave." I said, sincerely hoping this was the case.

They left it alone, and we continued to have a conversation about the day's remaining exercises, when Nix out of nowhere gave me such a look.

"What?" I asked with a frown.

"Why is Speirs staring holes in your back and looking like he could murder someone?" Nix asked, concerned. "Is there something going on with him?"

I wanted to turn around and see this for myself, but I didn't dare. "We had words a few days ago." I said with a nonchalant shrug. I was going to play it cool, like it didn't bother me and maybe they would let it go.

"You really should be careful with him. They don't call him Sparky for nothing." He said with a chuckle at my coolness.

"It's just words Nix. Words can only wound if you let them." I whispered back with a wink.

If they only knew how those words and that man did wound me.

…

That afternoon I was to teach the men about how to care for their rifle in inclement weather. I was informed that I had been assigned the task because, as a Canadian I was accustomed, with more familiarity than any of them with all four seasons. It was true. You could experience all four seasons in one day. Wake up to sunshine, have rain by lunch, snow by dinner and sunshine again the following morning.

I didn't really mind, but it was the first time I was to be instructing all the companies, Able through Mike. I was being observed not only by the men, but my fellow officers and a few of my own commanding officers. A bit intimidating for sure, but I had my uniform to hide behind, and my own training.

As I stood in front them, I remembered something that was said to my own regiment during training.

I walked the length of the first row of men standing at attention, and stopped. I gave them a sly smile, "At ease." I commanded, finding my confidence, and projecting my voice so I could be heard by all.

Once all the men were at ease, I pulled my own rifle off my shoulder, and looked at it, giving it a gentle caress. I offered the men another sly smile. I began walking down the rows again, looking at the men.

"This is my rifle. There are many others like it, but this one is mine." I paused, eyeing Bill Guarnere, running my hand across the stock of his rifle, earning a cheeky grin.

"My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life." I nodded at Lipton, and brushed a bit of dirt off the barrel of his gun.

"Without me, my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy, who is trying to kill me." I walked past Nixon and gave him a wink. I was being provocative, and sly. I was feeling bold and empowered, and had the rapt attention of all the men. I had something to prove, and here was my chance.

"I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will." I was in front of Speirs. I looked him in the eye as I spoke.

"Before God I swear this creed: my rifle and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of our enemy, we are the saviors of my life." I walked back to the front of the men, and paused.

"So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace."

"Amen."

The men responded with a deafening "Amen".

Oh, I had their attention all right, now I would have them, hook, line and sinker.

"Now, remove your prophylactic kit." I commanded, all eyes widening and looking at me. I couldn't help but laugh. Silently, to myself.

I gave Nix a wink. I had redeemed myself after days of distraction.

…

I skipped dinner that night to organize myself for a very early morning and a long trip the following day. I showered, and packed my bags. I wrote a note that I would leave for Dick so that at least someone knew where I had gone, and when I would be back.

I laid in bed restless that night, replaying the events of the past few days.

I hadn't had any further encounters with Speirs, much to my relief. No, the week had gone by relatively quickly, even if it hadn't felt like that. And my instruction the men had gone over exceptionally well. I had been asked to put my little rifle prayer down on paper so it could be shared with other Units.

I was glad to do so, but made it quite clear that it was something familiar to the Black Watch, had been passed down in our battalion as far back as the WW1.

The men had enjoyed my instruction on how to put a prophylactic on the barrel of their rifles to keep the water out. Water would jam the firing mechanism, so this was off the utmost important. We talked about rifle maintenance and how to keep their guns in battle condition for all seasons, focusing primarily on winter. The men had been trained in Georgia, a Southern climate, I knew. They were accustomed to heat and humidity.

I certainly hoped that the war would be over before next Christmas, that our impending invasion would be so effective that Hitler would concede with minimal loss of allied life. In reality, I knew that Hitler would fight to the bloody end, to the last breath. He would sacrifice his entire army before he would ever concede. I wasn't Freud but I knew that much.

Fucking Hitler.

No, I spent a lot of time talking about winter conditions, and optimal maintenance for their weapons. It would be a cold and humid winter in Europe, a lot like winters in Ontario and Quebec, and very unlike the winters in Alberta.

Sink had commended me personally on my instruction, and was happy to say that I had been taught well. It was a huge compliment and I had done my best not to blush. After all, I was the sassy Lieutenant who had demurely instructed the men on how to roll prophylactics down the barrel of their rifles, with the commentary that a "Ripped prophylactic was as useless on a gun as it was at preventing pregnancy."

I couldn't help but smile, remembering the shocked gasps at my words. No one noticed the slight blush that had crept to my neck. I was speaking about things I didn't really know about, in the real sense. The experience sense.

No one caught on that I was a fraud, hiding behind my uniform, acting like a tough, sassy woman. I needed to harness that side of my personality, and focus on being that woman during the upcoming months. This was no place for timid, meek, shy. I needed to be powerful. I needed to exude confidence.

After today, I felt confident. If Speirs was Sparky, I would be the Match that ignites the Flame. I would be fire.

…

|||Dunvegan, Scotland |||

The Scottish countryside was dusted with a thin veil of snow and the trees were sparkling with a sheen of frost, a truly idyllic setting. I had felt an instant connection with Scotland that only grew stronger as my final destination grew closer and closer. Something in me clicked, this was home. In some weird way, it was more home than Canada, more home than any of the places we had lived throughout my childhood and adulthood.

I only had a short time to accomplish a growing list of things. I had so many questions, but I knew, my father would not lead me as stray. I didn't need to ask for directions to the castle, I saw it instantly, this great manor home. A home that had housed generations of my family, and held so much history. A history I was keenly interested in getting to know, if it would bring me closer to my father. He had always been so elusive about his life, my mother, their relationship and love for one another. He would never tell me their story. He always said, it wasn't his story to tell, and as a young girl, this didn't really make much sense to me, but I never pushed the subject. As a young woman, and adult, it was even more confusing.

I was bound and determined to find the missing pieces.

Approaching the castle, I was mystified, stunned at its immense size, and the architecture. We had old buildings in parts of Ontario and Quebec, but nothing like this. Canada was a young country in comparison to any of the old world European countries. We were not steeped in history.

I knew, that the castle offered tours, but also, that the current chief and his family lived in the castle. I had decided that I would simply knock on the door and explain who I was, and that my father had directed me to visit the castle at my earliest opportunity or upon his death, whichever came first. Unfortunately his death had come first, and then with the war, this was the first opportunity.

I knocked on the door, and took a deep breath while I waited. I was nervous. Undoubtedly, anyone would be.

A young woman, no older than I answered, and it was like looking in the mirror. Oh, she had more freckles, fairer skin and her hair was redder than mine, mine was more auburn than brown, and more brown than red. We had the same green eyes. I was instantly thrown of course and a little surprised.

She stared at me, equally surprised, I surmised. I broke the tense silence. "Hello. I'm Ana MacLeod, my father was Alexander MacLeod. He told…"

"Mother!" She hollered, startling me mid speech. She continued to stand there gawking at me. And then there was a shadow behind her, and she turned and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear "She has come!"

…

That night I laid in bed, I had insisted on taking a room in the village. I was simply overwhelmed.

I had been instantly pulled into the house, and into a tight, tight embrace. I found myself resisting it out of pure confusion, and a little bit of panic. Not even my father had hugged me like that. It was shocking, but not completely unpleasant. In fact if I had understood it at the time, I would've lingered in it longer.

"We've been waiting for you. Years. So long." The older woman had said.

I just stood there in confusion, wondering if I should run right back out the door, and return to Aldbourne and forget this whole idea.

"I'm sorry, Ana. Forgive our rudeness. I am Joan MacLeod, the daughter of the current Chief of the Clan, and this is my daughter Mary. Please, please let me take your coat, and come to the sitting room." She said in a warm tone, her Scottish brogue strong, and ever so lovely. The words seemed to flow off her tongue like music.

To say I had been enchanted was an understatement. I gave Mary my coat, and followed Joan into the sitting room and accepted the cup of tea, looking at her with wide eyes, I suspect. She could sense my confusion, shock, and I'm guessing the sheer volume of questions that was only growing by the second.

It had taken me some time, but I finally found my voice.

"My father, Alexander MacLeod had instructed me to come here…." I said, my voice just above a whisper.

"Yes, I know. He was a good man, and did our family a great service" she said, looking at her tea, like she was gathering her thoughts. I gave her a moment and she continued. "Ana, before start down this path, I need you to understand, everything that was done, was done out of love, and for your protection."

I eyed her warily, and inclined my head for her to continue.

"It all started when your mother, Alice, met a young man, while on the mainland. She fell instantly in love with him, and he with her. Unfortunately, war broke out, and Alice, well she volunteered to be a nurse on the front. She would be going to France, and he, the young man she fell madly in love with, would be returning to London, where his family lived. They just maintained an estate in the Scottish countryside." She paused, as if trying to filter herself, took another sip of her tea, and continued.

"Your mother was assigned to a field hospital, the one, the one where your father, Alexander was chief surgeon. She was his nurse. They became fast friends, and your father fell madly in love with your mother, but she could not shake the memory of her first love. She was bound and determined that she would find him again, so she resisted your father. Your father, loving her so deeply, remained her constant and vigilant friend." She took another sip of her tea, and pulled her cardigan around her torso, as if she was cold in a room with a great big fire blazing.

"Your mother, she was about to give up hope that she would ever see, or hear from her love. And then, he was there, in front of her. He had been a victim of a mustard gas attack, and temporarily blinded. He was a navy man, but had received a special assignment that brought him into France. Your mother, she cared for him and he regained his vision. He was madly in love with her, and her with him, but there were a great many secrets he had been keeping. You have to understand."

I wasn't sure what I was to understand at this point, but I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I nodded my head and encouraged her to continue with my pleading eyes. I needed to hear this, and hear this quickly.

"He proposed to her, there in France, and they married, in secret. They were happy, in France. He didn't return back to his post, he remained in France to recover. And they were happy, for a time." She paused to reflect.

"He had a great many secrets from your mother, and one day, one of those secrets came to France, to get him. His brother. Your mother was mystified, and he confessed his true identity, she swore it didn't matter, and so did he. He loved her as well and his family would have to accept her. He returned to London with his brother and shortly after the war was over. Your mother went to London, but was not permitted to see him. She came home, heartbroken, and told us all the tale. And then one day, months later, he showed up at the door. Begging for her forgiveness. She ran off with him. His family, they would not recognize the marriage as it was not performed in the Church of England, but in their eyes they were married, even if it was by a chaplain. They were happy times for her, not so much for the rest of the family, nor his. And then his father became weak and ill, and pressure was placed on him, the eldest to marry. As I said they felt they were married, but the family did not recognize that. And I suppose it wasn't entirely legal. The happiness they felt began to fade, I witnessed it, and slowly turned into bitterness. He was going to leave her that became apparent. And he did. Whether he wanted to or not, only he knows that, but he did. He relented to responsibility and family pressure. But, by then, your mother, she was expecting you. She went to London to see him, but he was already in the arms of someone else. Your mother was never the same, the only thing that brought a smile to her face was the thought of you. And then, you were here and she was gone."

I had been in intense shock, and although I had a million more questions, she would not answer them any further that afternoon. She invited me back the next morning, and I had agreed, knowing that I would have limited time.

My most pressing concern, who was my father? And how and why did I end up in Canada?

I was tossing and turning in the springy bed, when the phone on my bedside table rang, scaring me out of my thoughts. No one knew I was here, but there was only one inn in the village, so I suppose it wouldn't be too difficult to track me down if necessary.

"Hello?" my voice came out as a sleepy whisper, although I hadn't been even remotely close to asleep.

"Ana?" a relieved male voice rang out in my ears.

What the heck?

"Who is this?" I asked, fully alert now, but not entirely sure who was on the phone. It sounded a lot like someone who would never deem to speak to me.

"It's Ron. Speirs." He said, clarifying.

"Ron…" I said, digesting the information. "How, how did you know where to find me?"

"I asked Nix and he said you left a note for Dick. I asked Dick."

"Why?" another shocked, breathy whisper. This day was full of surprises.

"You just left." He said.

"Yes. Isn't that what you wanted?" I said, half-heartedly, and in no mood for an argument. But why in the world was he calling me? "Aren't you suppose to hate me?" I asked, my voice choking on emotion I didn't know was there, emotion I didn't want to have surface. It had been a rough day, my strength was failing me.

"Are you ok?" he asked, concern evident in his sincere voice. It undid me. I never expected that kind of care from him.

"No. No I'm not." I whispered.

"Ana…I never, I could never hate you." He said. "You scare me. And I worry about your safety." He said in one drawn out statement. It sounded like he was at war with himself as he struggled so hard to get the words out.

I sucked in a breath. As he continued. "You were gone and I didn't know where you had gone, or when you would be back, if you were ok. You were not yourself this week." He said his voice no more than a whisper, and it brought goosebumps to the back of my neck.

"I had to figure somethings out." I said, tears started to flow down my cheeks. "I needed space." A small sob escaped me.

"Are you crying?" he asked me, his voice soft.

"Yes."

"What's wrong? Please. Did someone hurt you?" he asked, suddenly Sparky.

"Yes. Well, no. No, not in the physical sense." I whimpered, rubbing my hand across my eyes.

"What's going on?" he demanded, jolting me to my senses. I wiped my tears and composed myself.

"I'm not who I thought I was. My life has been one big lie." I sat up in bed, and reached for the small light.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, annoyed at the cryptic conversation.

I didn't know how much I could trust him, and I hesitated, but he was someone to talk to, and apparently he cared.

"My mother, she was married to someone, not my father. And my father, is not my father, but the man she married." I said on a sob, my composure was shot.

He took a deep breathe, and I could imagine him trying to work that out in his head.

"Ok, let me see if I understand this. Your mother married another man before your father?"

"Yes, but she was never married to my father, because the man who raised me, is not my father."

"How the…" he trailed off.

"I don't know" I interjected before he could finish his line of questioning. "I don't know anything, or who I am anymore. Oh, I'm a MacLeod that was never a lie. I found relatives here, I don't know how we are related or how closely, they wouldn't answer any questions today." I cried gently in frustration.

"Calm down Ana." He said in that soothing voice, one I was certain a man like him could never possess. But he did, and I liked it. I calmed down enough for him to continue. "Let's figure this out."

"My mom, she met my father, the man who raised me in France. He was a Canadian surgeon for my battalion during the first war." I said, taking a deep breath. "She was a nurse. Her name was Alice, Alice MacLeod." Suddenly I was in tears again. "I never knew her name, until today. He would never talk about her." Suddenly I was in tears again.

"Ana, baby, please, calm down." Ron pleaded, his voice bordering a bit on pent up desperation. When I didn't calm down, "Ok, I'm coming to you."

That got my attention, and I laughed through my tears. "By the time you get here, I'll be on the train back to Aldbourne."

He sighed in frustration, so I continued, as calmly as I could.

"He loved her, but she loved the other man, my real father. They had met on the mainland before the onset of war. He served in the Navy…." And I relayed the rest of the story that I had been told.

"Ok, so you still don't know who he is, or how you came to live in Canada with Captain Alexander MacLeod?" he asked, confused at the whole scenario, I'm sure.

"Yes. And, and, he wasn't Captain MacLeod. My mother was MacLeod, she was never allowed to take her husband's name, his family, my father's family forbade it. But my father, the man who raised me, he was never a MacLeod."

"Well, sweetheart, sounds like you have some very serious questions to ask." He concluded. I could help but burst out laughing.

"Don't I know it."

It was ironic, I thought, that in the midst of my world collapsing, and everything I thought I knew turning out to be elaborate lies, the most real thing in my life was Ronald Speirs. And, small miracle, he didn't actually hate me. Small miracles.

I couldn't help but fall asleep with a tiny smile on my face.

…

Rifle monologue is from the movie Full Metal Jacket.

I've taken some creative license (it's fanfic) - phones in the rooms etc.


	6. Chapter 5

Thank you everyone for the reviews.

I didn't want to keep you all waiting to find out who her true father is, but I had to keep a bit of mystery. As you will know, the story of King Edward (David) that I've used is actually true, as far as his abdication and marriage to an American divorcee. Everything else is just made up. ;-)

And, sorry it took so long to get another chapter out and that its so short, and probably has a few/many grammatical, contextual errors. I wanted to publish this before I head over to London this week for work...so bare with me.

Laura

...

||| Dunvegan, Scotland 1944 |||

I woke up the next morning confused and disoriented. Had everything been a dream? Had Ronald Speirs tracked me down, called me, and let me pour my heart out to him? Had he actually be kind and gentle?

I needed tea in the worse way. Something, anything to help clear the fog out of my mind, perk me up, and help me get going.

…

After a quick breakfast at the inn, I made my way over to Dunvegan Castle with blind optimism that today I would finally know the truth, the complete and utter truth of my existence, my parentage, my heritage. I needed all of the mysteries solved. Blind optimism and fear. Lots and lots of fear.

There had to be a pretty good reason that a mother would send her newborn baby across the ocean to a man she knew, but was in no way related to? There were so many pieces of this puzzle missing.

Knocking on the door, I waited for someone to answer, and within moments, Joan appeared in the open doorway and ushered me in out of the rain that came upon the island over the night.

"Good morning." She greeted me cordially as she ushered me in and took my coat.

Nodding my head, and removing my hat, "Good morning."

She escorted me into the same sitting room as she had the day previously.

A gasp from across the room drew my attention, and my head snapped up in search of the other presence in the room. My eyes fell on an older woman, similar in appearance to Joan. She had her fading auburn hair pulled back in a dignified chignon to compliment her tweed suit. I recognized the tartan scarf around her neck to be that of the clan.

"Ana, I'd like you to meet my mother, Flora MacLeod of MacLeod, she is the chief of our clan." Joan said, leading me towards the older woman standing adjacent to the fireplace.

I went to offer her my hand, and found myself swiftly pulled into a tight hug. The second time in two days, I thought, with a small smile. My father hadn't been overtly affectionate, at least in the physical sense. She held me in her arms for a few moments, and I was hesitant to return the embrace. They were all still strangers to me, however, I did know they were family, but how close of family I had yet to determine.

There were tears in her eyes when she finally released me, but kept hold of my hand as she lead me to a sofa, and sat down, indicating for me to sit next to her. I had yet to say a word, as tea was poured, and a cup placed in front of me.

"I'm sure you have many questions Ana" Joan started, "And my mother and I, will answer them, as best we can."

"Thank you." I said nodding, and taking a small sip of the tea in an attempt to gather my thoughts and find my voice.

"Thank you for inviting me back today." I said, offering them a small smile. "I do have so many questions, and it's really hard to know where to start, and I only have such a short time before I have to return to Aldbourne."

"You are not here to stay?" Flora asked, the first time she had spoken in my presence.

She looked a little bit distraught, I thought choosing my words carefully. "I have to return to Aldbourne, my unit is moving to another base." I said.

"Unit? Base?" Joan asked before her mother could digest the information.

"Yes. I'm a Lieutenant in the Canadian Army, however, assigned to an American Airborne Infantry unit." I responded, offering another small smile. "I joined the Black Watch, the unit my father, umm, Alexander was serving in when he met my mother…" I trailed off, offering a bit of the information that I had gathered yesterday.

"Airborne Infantry?" Flora asked, visibly pale.

"Yes, it's a new thing. They jump behind enemy lines. It's an elitist unit." I offered, trying to ease a bit of the tension that has crept into the room.\

"And what will you be doing with them?" Joan asked, her face etched in concern, which was a bit baffling to me as they hardly knew me.

"I'm not sure as of yet. Although, I am trained as a doctor and a surgeon, perhaps a combat medic? I do hope, however, that they accept my training and allow me just to be a normal infantry solider." I responded, my gaze drifting as I looked at the floor. I took another sip of tea, and changed the subject. "How am I related to you?" I asked, first gazing at Joan, and then Flora.

They looked at each other with Joan nodding at her mother.

"Your mother, Alice, was my daughter and Joan's sister." Flora said, looking at my intently. "The resemblance is so striking." She said in a soft murmur.

"So I'm your granddaughter and your niece?" I said, my gaze shifting back and forth from Flora to Joan.

They nodded their acknowledgement.

I felt something rising inside me, anger perhaps, but more than likely hurt. "Why did you send me to a stranger, if I have family? An Aunt? A Grandmother? Hell, I even have a cousin." I exclaimed not able to hold my emotion in.

There was a pregnant pause, a long, long pause. My eyes bounced from Joan to Flora, watching and waiting for an answer. A sign of emotion. Finally, Flora answered.

"We had no choice, dear. It was, it was for your safety."

"How? How was it for my safety?" I demanded, looking at her directly in the eyes.

"We couldn't let the world know, least of all your true father, or his family know, that you existed. Your mother didn't want that life for you. It ruined your father's life." Flora responded, tears sparkling in her green eyes. Green eyes, I noted, that were exactly like mine.

"Who, who is my father?" I asked.

Another long pregnant pause as they stared at each other in silent communication.

"We'll leave that to Alice to tell you." Joan said, with a sad smile.

I was so confused. "She is dead." I responded, looking at them in shock, true fear creeping into me. If my mother wasn't truly dead, I would never be able to forgive anyone for the deceit. Ever.

"Yes, but…she left things, things for you. Things that will explain more than we ever could." Flora said, and she and Joan got up. "We will be right back with the trunk."

I found myself alone and in silence aside from the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock, and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. I found myself cold. I found myself wishing I wasn't here alone, that I had someone strong and brave to hold on to my hand as all these revelations were thrust upon me. I wished for Ron, another shocking admission for the day. He had been so incredibly kind, it still surprised me.

They returned moments later, with an old man carrying a trunk. They refreshed my tea, and said they would be in the next room. That they would leave me in peace to go through the chest and the secrets it held.

I sat there, for several minutes, my heart beating loudly, trying to decide whether or not I was going to open that chest and discover the mysteries it held. Alas, I decided, I had come this far to walk away more confused than I was when I knocked on the door the previous day.

I opened the trunk.

Photo albums and boxes of correspondence. Dried flowers, and bits and pieces of newspaper clippings. Hair pins, and jewelry, scarfs and hats, and a wrapped box, with my name on it. It took me all afternoon to sift through the picture books, and one thing was clear my mother was a beautiful, vibrant person and she was always smiling. She was gorgeous, and I had to concede I looked a lot like her.

Near mid-afternoon I was emotionally and mentally exhausted and I had asked Flora if I could take the boxes of correspondence with me, something to read back in Aldbourne. She insisted I take the entire trunk as my mother would've wanted me to have her things. I would have loved to take it all back with me, but now was not the time. I had no way of knowing when, or if I would be back.

Fucking Hitler.

I left the castle with the promise to write them at each opportunity to let them know that I was ok. They made me promise to return so I could learn about my family and my place within it.

This was a promise I wasn't sure I wanted to keep. Again, this was a family that had cast me out as a new born baby, sent me across the ocean to a man they didn't really know. I couldn't wait to get back to the privacy of the inn to open the box that had been addressed "Ana".

I couldn't bring myself to open it at the castle, feeling the need for the utmost privacy. I didn't know what was in the box, but, it was directly from my mother to me. The one and only thing that was from her directly to me. That thought alone was enough to make me emotional.

I was surprised upon my return to the inn to hear the phone ringing in my room as I unlocked the door. There was only one person who would call me here, it had to be Ron.

"Hello Ron." I said with a smile in my voice as I sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off my shoes.

"Ana." He said with a laugh. "I guess things went better today?" he asked in a hopeful, warm tone.

"I guess. I met my grandmother." I said with a sigh as I shrugged out of my jacket, eyeing the box that I had set down at the end of the bed.

"Your grandmother was there?" he asked, prodding me for information.

"She's the chief of the clan. Joan, the woman I met yesterday is my aunt, my mother's sister." I said, sliding the box closer to me. "They gave me a trunk of my mother's things to look through."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. Lots of photo albums, letters, knick knacks and little things she had saved." I said absentmindedly as I ran my hands down the box, itching to rip the brown paper off of it, and reveal its contents.

"Distracted are you?" he said on a laugh. "Have you found out who your father is?"

"No. They wouldn't say. Said it was my mother's story to tell."

"How is she supposed to do that?" he inquired, I could hear the mirth in his voice.

"Ah, yes, well, in the trunk was a box, addressed to me. I'm holding it in my hands right now. I have yet to open it." I whispered, my itchy hands hesitating at the seam of the paper.

"Why not?" he asked gently.

I took a deep breath and let it out, "I'm a bit scared to. Honestly. It has to be bad. No one wants to tell me. And they all but admitted they hid me from him, from his family. That cannot be a good omen."

"Ana…" he started. "Whatever, or whoever they are, you do know that no harm will come to you?"

"How can you be sure? What if she tells me my father is Hitler?" I exclaimed, my deepest fears coming out. I knew this was impossible. Hitler had never set foot in Scotland, of this I was sure. I had read Mein Kampf, his distaste for Britain and the Western world was plainly evident.

Ron laughed, and laughed some more. I let him. "Ana, don't be silly." He said finally, in his serious voice. The voice that gave me quivers.

"I know, I know. It's impossible. But you see, anything is possible."

"Just open it Ana." He said, and there was a pause, and I heard him shuffle the phone, and speak to someone else, "I've got to go. But open it. And I'll call you in, two hours?"

"Ok." I whispered.

I would pull up my big girl panties and open this package, but first I needed a scotch.

….

Inside the parcel was a letter, and a smaller box, wrapped in faded blue paper. I chose to open the letter first.

 _My dearest Ana,_

 _My darling baby girl, how beautiful you are. I have never loved anyone or anything as completely as I love you. From the moment you were placed in my arms, mere hours ago, I know that I could never love anyone as much as I do you._

 _I lay here and imagine the woman you will be. The places you will go, the things you will do. How I long to be there to see you grow up. To see you walk, to see you run, to see you break out on your own, to be your own woman. Alas, my darling girl, I can feel my life slipping away from me, and I am at peace, for I have brought you in to this world._

 _You are my greatest achievement my darling. The best thing to happen to me. You are the light in my life and have been since the moment I realised I had you in my belly._

 _I must tell you things, that you may not understand, and you may not forgive me for. But my darling, there were little options. My dying wish was for you to be safe, to be free in ways that your father, your true father never was._

 _If you are reading this then you are grown and will at the very least be able to grasp what I am telling you. By now you already know that the man who has raised you, at my behest, is not your real father. Oh Ana, I wish he had been. He loved me so entirely, so complete, and he already loves you, he has from the moment I confided in him. He is a good man, and I wish I could have loved him as well. But it was already too late for me when we met. I had already met and fallen in love with your father._

 _When I first met your father I was a carefree 18 year old. I was wandering in the hills, a day off from studying at University, and there he was, riding along on his beautiful white horse. Yes, a prince in shining armor. He was handsome, and charming and he swept me off my feet with his intelligence, and quick wit. He was irresistible and like a moth to the flame I was drawn to him._

 _David always insisted on time alone in the country with minimal people around. It didn't matter to me, he was the most carefree and adventurous when it was just the two of us, without the fear of discovery. It never occurred to me that there was a reason for this. Never._

 _We were happy, blissful in our carefree adventures in nature. I fell madly in love with him, and he with me._

 _And then the world erupted into chaos and we were at war. He had to return immediately to London with his family, and my nursing class was called into service, and I was sent to the front in France, where I met Alex. David had been called upon to serve in the Navy, and I worried, and prayed for him each and every day. I had not seen or heard from him from the moment he left for London._

 _Just when I thought all hope was lost, there he was. There he was in front of me._

 _His vessel had come ashore to evacuate injured troops back to England, and he had been in the midst of helping when they came under a mustard gas attack._

 _For all my prayers, dreams and daydreams, there he was. Injured, but he would heal. He would be fine. He was my David and I spent every free moment with him, talking, caring for him._

 _We married, in France, amidst soldiers and the dying. It was the happiest moment of my life, amidst all the death and horror. We were happy. We remained together in France until the armistice was signed._

 _We returned to England, and my life was turned upside down. Your father, David, had never been completely honest with me. Yes, David was his name, but one of many of his names. His full name was Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David of the House of Windsor. My darling girl, I had married the prince, the heir apparent to the British Commonwealth._

 _You cannot fathom my shock, and there are no words that I can use to this day to describe it._

 _His family would not recognize our marriage, it was forbidden, and a disgrace. I was immediately sent home to Scotland, and he was commanded not to follow. He was directed to marry a suitable woman as he would one day be the King._

 _David, being my dear David did not follow these orders, he came to Scotland weeks after me, and whisked me away. We lived quietly together for quite some time. We were peaceful, although he could not acknowledge me as his wife, nor could we be seen in public together. Combined with the constant harassment of his family, we were always doomed._

 _And then one day, he told me he couldn't stay anymore. He told me, begged me to understand, that however much he loved me and our quiet life together, he was the future King of England, and he had to return. I learned later that his mother had telegrammed that it was time that he left his childhood behind and became the man, the Future King. He father was falling in._

 _It was only after he left that I realised I was carrying you. I made a choice, my darling, and I hope, beyond hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for this._

 _I never told him. I went right home to the warm embrace of my family. Mother insisted on wiring down to London immediately. There was no way she would allow her daughter to be disgraced by a man. I wouldn't allow it._

 _You see, my darling girl, I did not want my baby to grow up, to have a life thrust upon her where she had no freedom to choose whom she loved, to be controlled and manipulated like a puppet in the public eye. I did not want that for you. And for that matter, with my broken heart, I already knew your father could not claim you, he and I could never be married in the Church of England, the only marriage that the Royal Family would accept. It was not to be._

 _You, my darling dear, are born out of love. I have no doubt that your father would have loved you entirely and complete as I do. I have no doubt that he would've done his best to shield you and protect you; I couldn't trust the rest of them._

 _You are the love of my life, my greatest achievement._

 _Your Mother,_

 _Alice MacLeod_

… _._

The ringing of the phone startled me out of my daze. I reached for it, shaking my head, trying to clear my mind.

"Ana?" Ron's voice was there on the other line, like a beacon of light.

"Hello." I said, reaching for my class of scotch, and taking a small sip.

"Are you ok?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." I answered, still in a daze.

"Well?" he said, expectantly.

I didn't know how much I wanted to reveal. I hadn't even had a chance to really process the revelation. Hell, I was a princess. Well, not really, technically I guess. In the crudest sense.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I whispered to him, shock evident in my voice.

"Try me." He said in an encouraging tone.

Gathering my courage, "I'm a princess." I said, and burst out in shocked giggles, on the brink of a panic attack.

He started laughing, thinking I was kidding. "Yes you are, you are definitely a princess. Beautiful like one too".

"I didn't even think you liked me until yesterday and now you are calling me beautiful. Wow." I whispered, sobering, but still in awe.

"Well, there you go. I think you are beautiful. Now, no more stalling. What did it say?" he said, his smile evident in his voice.

"I'm a princess." I said, this time without the laughter.

"Come on Ana, be serious." He said, now starting to sound a bit frustrated and a lot like the man I had known all along.

"I'm serious, I'm a princess." I said on a whisper.

"Look Ana…" he stopped, took a breath, "If you want to play games, you can find someone else to play them with."

"I'm not playing any games Ron. I'm a princess." I whispered, surprised at his outburst.

"Forget it. I'm sorry I bothered." He said angrily, and hung up the phone with a slam, leaving me sitting there, on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down my face.

I couldn't even call him back.

Just as I thought, no one would believe me if I told them.

…

The train trip back to Aldbourne was a lot less thrilling than the trip to Scotland. My mind was churning with thoughts, and I hadn't slept well after Ron had hung up on me. I didn't want to admit that I was a bit heartbroken. But then again, what did I expect. It's not like the man really liked me, he was just curious.

But, I really liked him, and I really liked how he was when we spoke. Just the two of us, from different ends of the country. He was warm and gentle, funny and charismatic, a stark contrast to the Sparky I knew in person. The Sparky who hung up on me the night before.

I made it back to base, and into my room as the sun was starting to rise. I quickly showered and dressed in my Black Watch special dress uniform, of kilt and jacket, and mentally prepared myself for the stares that I was sure to get from the Americans. They hadn't seen this uniform before, but it was for special occasions such as this. Parades. The Royals were visiting today.

The people who had kept my mother from true happiness with my father.

But what really bothered me, my father wasn't the King, it was his younger brother. No, my father wasn't dead, he had abdicated his throne for a divorcee American woman that he wasn't permitted to marry, yet he insisted on it. Insisted so much that he gave up his title and country. This much I knew from reading the news, years ago.

Why hadn't he done the same for my mother?

…

I went to breakfast, and sat down with Dick and Lewis, well aware of the looks I was receiving. My legs were bare from mid-thigh to knee, where my woolen socks were. Scandalous, I suppose if you were not accustomed to the dress of the Scot Highlander.

"What are you wearing, Ana?" Lew asked, swallowing his coffee, as he looked me up and down.

"Lew, as an Intelligence Officer I'm shocked that you don't know." I said, faking humour and mirth. I was in a weird mood, between my conflicted feelings about Speirs, and the upcoming Royal Visit. My family.

They both looked at me expectantly.

I sighed, "This is the formal dress uniform of my regiment." I said, taking a sip of my tea, and trying to stay focused on the conversation.

"Well…" Dick started, "You stand out like a sore thumb, but you look great." He smiled.

"Thanks." I muttered, focusing my attention on food I had no intention of eating. I moved it around my plate until everyone started to get up to go form up. It was time.

As I walked to throw out my uneaten meal, there he was, right in front of me.

"Princess." He said, sarcasm dripping from his tone of voice, his eyes hot and angry as he looked me up and down like a piece of meat.

I couldn't control the tears, and before I could turn from him, one had snuck down my cheek. I turned, and bolted.

It was just too much.

…


	7. Chapter 6

Thank you all for the reviews. I do appreciate them, reminds me that someone is reading the story, and motivates me to write a bit more, and endeavor to get a chapter down in a timely fashion.

I'm glad you liked the twist on Ana's parentage. I apologize if I'm screwing around with history...creative license I suppose. Please do not take offense.

* * *

|||Military Parade|||

My encounter with Speirs left me shaken. There was just something about him. Shaking him from my mind, swallowing the lump in my throat, and wiping away my tears, I straightened my jack, but on my hat, if you could call it that, and headed off towards Winters and Nixon. It was time to start assembling.

"Jeez Ana, you look like you are wearing several large, fluffy cats on your head." Nixon said, choking back laughter. They hadn't gotten a good look at the hat until this moment. They had only seen the rest of the getup.

I couldn't help but laugh, his eyes were wide as saucers, and so were Dicks.

"I couldn't agree more." I chuckled, my hands idly going to my neck and giving it a rub. Not only was the hat tall and bush, it was also very warm and extremely heavy. It took all of my focus to remain upright. This hat was not suitable for women.

"It is a rather spiffy uniform." Winters commented. He was admiring the Canadian ability to look prestigious, deadly and hold tradition. He had to admire a unit that respected its roots, being that the Airborne was a new concept in the US Army, he had to wonder if someday, someone would be wearing something in honor of their humble beginnings and prestigious history. Oh, he hoped it was prestigious, but he hasn't one to dwell long on negative thoughts of potential outcomes. No, he had to be confident his men would make it through this war, that the allies, that good would prevail over evil.

"It's hot." I said, wiping my brow. "It's itchy.' I said using my right foot to rub my left leg. "And it's very, very…"I paused for effect. "Heavy."

They burst out laughing at the scene before them. I had no idea I was such a comedian. A hidden talent I suppose. Perhaps if I had spent more time socialising instead of hiding in the library buried in books and my studies I would've known this sooner. I was much better at human interaction than I gave myself credit for.

Colonel Sink and the other commanders had the companies form up, and before I knew it we were marching along with a band, parading ourselves in front of the Royals. I couldn't help myself, but I observed them a little more closely than anyone else. The King, Queen, and his two daughters.

I noticed the youngest girl, Margaret, was pointing at me, with what appeared to be laughter, drawing the attention of her father and mother to me. I made eye contact with the King and it looked like he visibly paled. Off course, that was impossible, so I let the notion slip from my mind, and focused once again on putting one foot in front of the other while holding rigid poster with the monstrosity on my head.

After our ceremonial march, the Royals were led off to inspect the C-17 that would be our vessels to invade Europe, and we were released to do as we pleased. I hadn't eaten anything at breakfast and was feeling a bit lightheaded and famished. Marching in full dress was always a treat. My first order of business was to go and change, and find something to ease my hunger until lunch.

This was not to happen. Before I turned the corner to my barracks I spotted him, leaning on the wall adjacent to the entrance leisurely smoking a cigarette, still in his own dress uniform. Oh, he was handsome, I conceded for the millionth time, he certainly didn't have to do much to make my pulse rate. No, but he just had be himself.

"Fuck." I whispered to myself. I couldn't handle another run in with him, not today, not right now. My emotions were still boiling just beneath the surface, and all I needed was for him to see me crying because of him. Dammit, he had already heard me crying.

Embarrassment at the memory caused me to turn crimson, turn tail and head the other direction, dress uniform be damned.

…

I stood outside her barracks waiting. I was enjoying the sun on my face and the cigarette in my mouth. No one would think anything of me leaning against the building, I could very well be waiting for any number of people.

I was only waiting for her.

I had so many things I needed to say to her after our conversations on the phone, and our interlude this morning. First and foremost I needed to apologize. Apologize for my behaviour right from the time she fell into my arms. I needed to apologize for being a total asshole, and maybe then she would give me an honest answer. An honest chance, I admitting myself. An honest chance to get to know her, the real her, without lies, including what she discovered and not some bullshit royalty line.

Just thinking about it made me seethe. I went out on a line, took a risk in calling her at the inn. I let her see the soft side of me that I rarely, if ever let anyone see. I let her see the side of me that I would never let anyone take advantage of again, and she played me for a fool.

She didn't know that, though, and I had to give her that. Give her a chance to understand my perspective, my reaction. I had treated her unfairly all along and she only gave back what she got. Dammit. I had messed this up entirely on my own and from the beginning. And the real ass kicker, I kept doing it. I couldn't stop myself, I kept hurting her.

Oh, I saw the tears glistening in her eyes. I saw the lone droplet forge a path down her cheek. I saw the hurt. And I saw her run from me. I saw her lock her hurt down and go about the day. Strength. She had real strength. I admired that about her.

I waited for almost fifteen minutes. All of the other officers she was housed with had already come and gone. I thought she would be one of the first, given the ridiculous hat she was forced to wear. What were they called? The guards at the palace in London wore them. He smiled slightly to himself remembering the sight of her with that big black tube of fluff on her head. Oh, she held her head high with pride. Yes, she was entitled to pride, and lots of it. She was so strong, so brave, even if she didn't think so.

She was. His favorite thing to think about lately, or fantasize about, if he was honest, was the memory of her rifle prayer. The spark in her eyes, the sassiness. He knew he wasn't the only one thinking inappropriate thoughts.

No, not the only one. And if she ever gets her head out of the clouds she'll realise she could have any man she wanted, I thought to myself. No, I needed to make fix things with her. I couldn't handle her with any man other than me.

After my third Lucky Strike I gave up. She apparently wasn't coming back to change her clothes. I headed off towards the rest of the base. The Royal Family was still present, inspecting the planes I had heard. I hadn't bothered to pay much attention. I didn't see why we needed to parade ourselves for their amusement, it all seemed redundant with a war being fought. All of us would be potentially giving our lives in the near future, and here we were wasting valuable time on something so ridiculous.

I was about to round a corner when I noticed Colonel Sink and Major Strayer talking to a dressed up in a very ornate uniform. I immediately recognized him as King George from seeing him on the podium. They were having an in depth conversation, of this I was sure. They were hidden, out of sight and conducting their conversation in complete privacy. Well, almost, I smirked. They didn't know I was there, and I could hear everything that was being said.

"What are your plans for my niece?" the King had demanded, a slight stutter in his voice.

Niece? I thought, listening in even more closely.

"Your Majesty, we hadn't completely figured that out yet. But with her training…." Colonel Sink trailed off, looking to Major Strayer for a bit of assistance.

"She will most likely have a combat intelligence role, your Majesty. She'll be removed from the front just enough to provide adequate safety. However with her education and training she could also serve as a field medic, or as a surgeon in the field hospitals. Your Majesty." Strayer said.

I felt my stomach, that I hadn't realised was in knots sink down to my boots. Ana had medical training, how much I didn't know. I only heard tidbits of information from others on her past. She had been in medical school though, I had heard as much from Bill Guarnere.

"Thank you Major, Colonel. I assure you, I understand the difficult position I have put you in." The King said, inclining his head.

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, why not forbid her?" Colonel Sink asked, an obvious question.

The King appeared to think for a moment. It was a logical question, and he was a logical man. "Colonel, it's rather complicated family history. And Ana is not even remotely aware that she is my niece, nor that her father was the once King of England." He said after a moment.

Holy fucking shit. Ana. My Ana. Canadian Ana.

She hadn't been joking. She had been in shock. No fucking kidding.

I had fucked up majorly, and it was only starting to sink in how much.

"Could you not tell her, your majesty?" the Colonel continued.

"I would love to. I wanted to march onto that field and take her by the hand and drag her up next to my own daughters and ensure she is protected. It wasn't until she enlisted did I find out she was my niece. We've never been a part of her life, the life she knew was a lie, facilitated by my mother, with the assistance of a Canadian Surgeon who served with her own mother…." He paused trailing off.

I couldn't listen to anymore, my stomach was literally sitting like a boulder in my boots. I had fucked up royally. Ha, royally.

Would she ever forgive me for being so harsh, so mean to her? She had been telling me the truth, being completely honest and I had thrown it all in her face.

But the biggest question, did I want her to forgive me? She was a goddamn Princess.

Shit.

And I was no Prince Charming.

…

I had hid myself in an empty tent until I was sure Speirs would have either found what he was looking for, or just left. I could wait him out.

After what felt like forever, I couldn't handle the nauseous feeling, and knew I had to eat or I would turn into one of the simpering females in a Jane Austen novel and faint. And it would not be dignified.

I hastily exited the tent and right into the chest of a solider I wasn't familiar with.

He eyed me, up and down, and before I knew it was being tossed back into the tent, manhandled.

"Let go of me, Corporal." I said, my voice slightly shaky, weak from my hunger and exhaustion. The last several days were catching up with me.

He blatantly ignored me, as I tried to shove him away, his hands were travelling up my skirt to my bum.

"I said let go of me Corporal." I said more firmly, finding I did have some energy to muster, adrenaline kicking in.

"I don't take orders from you." He said gruffly as he forcefully squeeze my bum.

"Let go of me." I shouted, fighting him, and in turn he just strengthened his grip on me, forcing his mouth to my lips.

"Shut up. You prance around here in that little get up. You want to be fucked." He said, squeezing me to him.

"HELP!" I shouted the minute his mouth left mine. He slapped me, causing my head to whip to the side.

"No one is going to hear you." He ripped at my skirt and shirt, popping buttons and pins as he went.

I was crying, trying to fight him off.

"Let her go." A dark figure behind him said, as my eyes closed in shame.

"You can join in buddy." The solider said without looking over his shoulder.

"Let her go." The figure said again, cocking his weapon and digging the barrel into the man's back.

He let me go, and I crumpled to the grass, trying to cover my exposed body with the shards of my shirt. I was shaking miserable, tears running down my face in red splotchy rivers.

The figure, my rescuer order the solider to report to the MP's if not he would find him and punish him in ways the MPs never could. If he didn't find him in their custody by the end of the afternoon, he would find him.

It was a menacing threat uttered in a very dark and menacing tone.

Next thing I knew I was in his arms, his field jacket wrapped around me. I finally looked up at my rescuers face.

"Ron." I hiccupped painfully, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, and continued to sob with fervour, burrowing my face into his chest.

"Ana…." He said weakly, all traces of the menace he was a mere moments ago gone. In fact he was shaking slightly, or it was me, shaking so hard I was shaking him.

"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you?" he asked, his voice softer than I had ever heard.

I hiccupped, and tried to regain my sense, his pulse beating against my ear calming me slightly. I inhaled his scent.

"No." I whispered, more tears flowing down my cheeks and into his now wet tee shirt.

"Look at me." He said, nudging my face gently with his shoulder. "Please, Ana, look at me."

I did, and he gasped.

"He hit you." He said his voice turning hard once again.

"Please. Please." I whispered, as I tightened my arms around his neck, burrowing my face back into his shoulder, a new round of sobs racking my body.

"Please what?" he asked, hopelessly. "Please what Ana?" I continued to sob into his shirt. "Ana baby, please what?"

"Please don't turn into Mr. Hyde." I whispered.

"What do you mean?" he asked confused, his voice gentle in my ear.

"Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." I said, expecting him to understand my reference. When he didn't speak, I continued, in a soft voice, muffled by his shirt. "Doctor Jekyll invents what he thinks is a medicine, and takes it. It changes him, and he becomes Mr. Hyde, his pure evil side. Murders people. It's a book."

He pulled me closer, his nose in my hair. "Oh Ana."

….

She completely undid me. Regardless of who she was discovering she was. She was her, and I was completely, and undoubtedly addicted to her, despite how much I had fought myself over it.

I breathed in her hair.

She was right, I was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with her, vaguely recalling the story from my own youth.

Hearing her panicked, feeble call for help had had me running in the general direction. The male grunts and her cries and whimpers had sent my heart racing. And then the sight of that man pawing at her, man handling her, trying to force his way with her had me seeing red. Oh, I was prepared to be a cold blooded killer in war, but this wasn't war and I could have torn the man limb from limb. He was touching my woman.

My woman. The thought caused me to catch my breath and pull her closer to me. She was half naked, vulnerable and crying in my arms.

My woman.

I would damn well make sure she was mine. I would protect her, take care of her. Fuck it all. She was just the girl on the boat. Nothing else mattered.

My woman.

"I'm sorry…" I started, not knowing exactly what to say to excuse my horrendous and ongoing behaviour. "You…I…" I stumbled. Jesus, I never struggled so hard to speak my mind. "I'm so sorry." I said, feeling stupid.

She hugged herself closer to me, shivering, and her tears starting to subside. "You confuse me."

Involuntarily my eyebrow rose, and she continued "Hot and cold. Jekyll and Hyde. And then, there you are. You are always there…." Her voice trailed off as if she was in deep thought.

"You follow me, don't you?" she said, looking up at me. "I felt like, I was never alone, that there was always someone in the shadows watching me. Goosebumps." She said. "Maybe I'm crazy…"

"I watched you, on the ship." I started, as her eyes grew wide. Go big or go home. "You sat alone on the deck, each and every night. You sang to yourself."

She blushed. I was so relieved to see color on her cheeks. "I wondered what you were thinking about. You always looked so, peaceful, deep in thought."

"What I was thinking about?" she asked, drawing herself closer to me. I wrapped my jacket closer around her.

I nodded.

"Life." She started, her voice wistful. "What life could've been like? If the world hadn't erupted into chaos and war. What I would be doing. Love. Marriage. Babies…." She trailed off wistfully. "Freud."

Intrigued. "What did you imagine?"

She blushed. "I wondered if I would be married by now." She laughed.

"And?"

"I thought no. I was too busy, so immersed in my studies, it was like living in a tunnel. Tunnel vision."

I chuckled, and waited for her to continue. She was blushing red, a stark contrast to the bruise forming on her cheek. I focused on her eyes, forcing my rage at the soldier down. My woman.

"I wondered if I would be in love….have been kissed….I wondered where I would be….what I would be doing if I wasn't on the troop ship…" she sighed, her eyes far away, as I stared at her.

I wanted to ask, so badly, I wanted to ask, but instead, "Freud?"

She snapped back to the present, and looked at me and started to giggle. What a lovely sound. If I wasn't already certain I was in love with her, that sound alone, that lighthearted tinkling sound, would have been the clincher.

"My good friend Freud." She said, as she continued to giggle, earning a chuckle from me. "I think about him a lot. Too much even."

"Oh?"

"I wonder what he would think of me. But most often, I wonder what he would have to say about Adolf." She gave a cheeky grin.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"What do you figure?" I asked, thoroughly entertained and extremely pleased that I had successfully distracted her from her predicament. The tears had stopped, but her grip on me hadn't loosened.

"Oh, that we are all batshit crazy."

"Yeah." I couldn't agree more. "What's this about kissing?" I asked her, finally.

She blushed, and cast her gaze down and somewhere over my shoulder. "Oh, nothing really." She whispered. She sounded sad, I thought.

"Come on." I prodded her with a gentle smile.

"No. No. I couldn't handle if you laughed at me right now." She whispered.

"Why would I laugh at you?" I asked gently.

"You would either laugh or be angry."

"Ana….I'm …There are no words…I'm very sorry for how I've acted towards you…for everything." I said, sincerely, taking one of my hands and lifting her chin so she would look at me. So I could see her face. She needed to know that I truly meant that and that Mr. Hyde was never going to show himself again, at least with her.

She nodded, and shivered as she moved closer into me. She was my second skin. At this point I realised it was getting late, and the weather had changed. I could hear rain hitting the canvas.

"We should get you inside and get you warm." I said to her.

She looked at me, those green eyes sparkling. "Yes." She agreed softly.

I stood up with her in my arms, not willing to let her go.

"You can put me down." She whispered.

I couldn't think of a reason not to, I mean, other than the fact that she just felt so damn perfect in my arms, regardless of the circumstances that led her there.

She swayed almost immediately on her feet, reaching for me to steady herself. She was shaking, pale, and she was going to have one hell of a shiner.

"I'm ok." She said once she was steady.

But she wasn't. No sooner had those words left her mouth, she was fainting in my arms. Crap, not that I minded that she was in my arms again.

I tucked her into my chest, and did my best with one hand to cover her as much as possible with my jacket and what was left of her uniform. A goofy thing, I had to admit, but she wore it shockingly well.

Bracing myself, more for her than for anything, I headed out into the rain, and jogged as quickly as I could back to her barracks. Oh, there were men who stopped to gawk, but all I had to do was give them one look. Sparky. They were all intimidated by Sparky.

Doctor Freud, I thought, would have a field day with me too. I was a man, Ronald, but that man was also Sparky, and apparently Dr. Hyde as well.

...

Nixon and Winters saw me approaching with Ana in my arms. They quickly opened the door and opened the door for me.

"What the hell Speirs?" Nixon asked me, in shock.

"She fainted." I said as I made my way to her room.

"Fainted?" they both said in unison.

"Yeah. Fainted."

"And the black eye?" Winters asked quickly surveying my girl.

"A soldier." Was my only response.

"Ok, from the beginning." Nixon said, running a hand through his hair and then cupping his mouth. He looked genuinely concerned, they both did. I know they had her best interest at heart.

"I heard her calling for help, after the parade. I found her in a tent with a soldier, one of ours, not the 506th. He was trying to force his will upon her." I said as calmly as I could. They didn't need to know all the details.

"Jesus. Is he ok?" Nixon asked. "He didn't…?"

I nodded, "No, he didn't."

"Thank Christ." He said, with a nod from Winters.

"Where is the soldier now?" Winters asked, regrouping and back to the Officer and good man that he was. He was a man I looked up to, and only hoped I could be as good of a man as he is someday.

"I told him he better turn himself into the MPs or he would be seeing me again." I said.

"Do you have his name?" Nixon asked.

I nodded and gave it to them.

"I'm going to go make sure that son of a bitch is there. And that he told them exactly why he is there." Nixon said, his face flushed with anger.

"I'll go with you." Winters said. "Does she need a medic?"

"I don't think so. She was ok and talking with me, and then she just fainted." I said, looking down at her pale face.

"She hasn't been eating." Nixon said, looking back at her.

"Or sleeping." Dick said. "At least, I know last night she was on the train. She got in very early this morning."

I nodded.

"I'll see what she needs when she wakes up." I said, hoping to end this interaction so I could take her in to her room and lay her on her bed, get her covered up.

They gave me a funny look, at least it registered as odd to me, and left me alone with her.

Her room was neat and tidy, I hadn't expected anything different. We all had minimal possessions it was hard to be messy. Her uniforms were all hung up neatly on hooks in the wall, and her OD's were folded neatly on her trunk. Here desk was littered with neatly stacked piles of paper, photos, and letters.

I laid her gently in her bed, glancing quickly up and down her body to make sure there were no other hidden injuries. I hadn't even asked her, but there was nothing I could see other than some red finger marks where his hands had apparently dug into her pale skin.

I was instantly angered, as I pulled the remnants of her uniform off, and laid them on the chair. I caught a glance of a letter on her desk, the letter from her mother.

I already knew the outcome. I hadn't yet told her that I knew, that I believed her. I wasn't sure if I should even tell her.

What did she want for herself? The Royal life? Would I be enough for her? Was I enough for her, even now?

"Ron…" she murmured, starting to wake up.

"I'm here Ana." I said, turning and sitting down next to her prone form on the bed.

"Mmm." She said, reaching up and running her fingers gently down my cheek. She wasn't quite awake, I could tell, but the sensation of her gentle fingers on my cheek was enough to have me close my eyes in ecstasy.

"It's not a dream." She murmured as her hand dropped down to her side. She was sound asleep.

…


	8. Chapter 7

If you can't sleep you might as well crank out another chapter...

* * *

I woke up slowly, disoriented. I was in my bed, and there was a warm arm wrapped around my waist. Deep breathing in a chest flush up against my back, massaging me gently, making me want to close my eyes and go back to sleep.

My stomach had other plans, as it let out an enormous rumble that I'm sure they could hear all the way in Tokyo.

The body behind me, laughed, a sweet sexy sound in my ear, his chest rumbling against me. I had never felt another person's laughter before, this was an interesting sensation.

"You are warm." I murmured softly, not recognizing the tone of my voice.

"Too warm?" he asked, his voice but a breath on my ear.

"Mmm. Just perfect." I said, rolling over slightly so I could see his face.

"You're blushing." He whispered, brushing a tendril of my hair behind my ear. "Why?"

He was watching me intently as I thought of my answer, my blush growing stronger and deeper.

"I've never been held by a man before. Woken up with a man before." I whispered averting my eyes.

"Never?" he asked, obviously shocked.

"No." I answered, embarrassed.

"Kissing!" he said all of a sudden after a moment of quiet contemplation. "That's what you meant. You've never been kissed."

He was looking at me, my cheeks were hot, on fire, I was sure he could feel it. I tried to bury my face in the pillow, but he had been my pillow.

"Don't look away Ana. You can trust me."

"I've never been kissed by a man." I concede shamefully, looking at the ceiling instead of him.

"Are Canadian men morons?" he asked, drawing my attention back to his face.

I didn't know how to answer that.

"If you were my girl, I'd kiss you every second of every day, if I could." He whispered, wistfully almost.

My cheeks were positively glowing red, I was sure. I'm sure I was heating the whole building by this point.

"Really?" I asked, shyly, trying to compose myself.

"Really." He said softly lifting my chin with his finger to look into my eyes.

I don't know who moved first, but as his lips met mine in a tentative kiss, it was paradise. His lips were warm and so very gentle. I wasn't entirely sure what to do, but as my lips parted in a slight gasp, his tongue gently entered my mouth.

My body responded in ways I was not accustomed. I found myself trying to move closer to his warmth, crazing more contact with him as our lips met in a mating dance. He groaned, and his hand found its way into my dishevelled hair.

He pulled away suddenly, his eyes wide, his breath coming in gasps. I was no better.

Footfalls were approaching my door, followed by a knock.

"Ana…" Nixon said softly.

"Yes?" I called, flustered, and hoping my voice didn't come out breathy.

"I brought you and uhh..Speirs..some sandwiches."

I blushed, and Ron just looked at me with a chuckle. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and extricated himself from my grasp and the bed, pulling on his pants. He opened the door slightly, just enough to get the sandwiches from Nixon.

"Thank you." I called gently to him as Ron closed the door.

"You need to eat." He said, coming back to the bed and helping me sit up.

"I'm famished." I conceded with a laugh.

"I could hardly tell. Your stomach was rumbling like a C-17." He joked, sitting down next to me, holding out a sandwich.

"Thanks." I said, taking a delicate nibble, and looking at him under my lashes. "Are you not having one?" I said, indicating the other sandwich on the tray.

"Not until you're full."

"I insist. I won't eat two. Join me. It'll be like an indoor, whatever time it is, picnic." I said with a smile.

"Alright." He agreed with a laugh.

…

"What do you think is going on with those two" Lewis Nixon asked Dick after delivering a tray of sandwiches to Ana's room. He knew she had eaten much at breakfast, and had looked pale and worn, and after her ordeal he was certain she wouldn't want to be out and about.

Besides, Speirs was keeping her sequestered in her room. He was surprised to see Speirs so casual and relaxed, a cozy scene as he had only opened the door slightly at his knock. He hadn't even caught sight of Ana, but her voice was happy, at least as far as he could tell. Relaxed even.

"I don't think anything. But, if there was, what's the harm?" Dick said, earning a raised eyebrow from Lew.

"Coming from you that's grand." Lew laughed.

"Let's not fault them some happiness while they have a chance. That's all I mean."

"Agreed." Lew said, his voice trailing off.

…

"I should head back to my own quarters…"I said quietly as I idly twirled a strand of her hair between my fingers.

"Mmm…" she murmured in a complete relaxed daze. I was happy, she had eaten two sandwiches, and curled up into me, like she had no intention of letting me go. I certainly hoped she didn't.

I laughed at her sweet, dazed response. I tried again. "Ana, it's getting late. I better go." I whispered into her ear, earning a shiver.

"Do you have to?" she asked, her voice soft, and far away.

I didn't know how to answer that, so I nodded my head gently, as she let me go, and I got up.

I righted my clothes, and bent down and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and forced myself to turn and walk towards the door. Her soft whisper stopped me in my tracks.

"If I wake up tomorrow and this was all a dream….it'll still be the best few hours of my life."

…

I woke up the next morning wishing for the warmth of another body. Not just another body, I admitted, but Ronald Speirs.

I was falling hopelessly in love with him, I thought. That's why it was so easy to forgive his ill treatment. I could only hope that he wouldn't pull his quick personality change on me. I wasn't sure I could handle it again, and considering how vulnerable and real I had been with him. How real he had been with me.

There was still the problem of him trusting me. I guess, it would be really hard to believe that a normal girl, or seemingly normal girl, Freud and myself would disagree on what constitutes normal, would go away for a weekend furlough and discover she was a Princess. Or at the very least, genetically related to royalty.

I wished I hadn't made the discovery, at least that part of the discovery. It was a relief to know my true parentage, to know at the very least why my mother had sent me across the ocean. Actually, I wasn't completely sure about that either. Was the Royal family a threat to me, or I to them? Why had I been kept secret?

Or was it a purely female pride thing? Had my mother opted not to tell my father about me because she didn't want him to come back to her solely because she was pregnant with me?

I could see that, and I would probably feel the same. Someone who loves you should never leave you, and if they come back to you it should be at their own free will not to do the right thing.

Deep thoughts, I decided as I pulled myself out of bed.

I stretched with a deep sigh. My body was sore from the last few days. Sore, and bruised, I noted catching a peak at my body in the small mirror. The man had left his mark.

I was about to turn on the shower when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called from the small bathroom, the door I had left ajar so the steam could escape the close bathroom.

"Ana, can I come in?"

It was Ron.

"Come in." I called, and I waited for the door to open. "I'm just going to take a quick shower…I'll be right out." I said to him from the other side of the door.

"Ok." He said, he sounded a little nervous, a little unsure. That stopped me in my tracks.

Oh no. I was instantly panicked. Was he changing his mind? Was he going to tell me our afternoon had been a mistake?

I wrapped myself in a towel, forgetting about the shower that was still running, stirring up a cloud of steam. I timidly opened the door from the bathroom and took a step out into my room.

He was there, sitting on the edge of my bed, staring off into a corner, not really looking at anything in particular.

"Is everything ok?" I asked, scared at the answer and startling him out of his thoughts.

He startled slightly at the sound of my voice, his attention instantly drawn to me in the bathroom doorway. His gaze went up and down my body in a slow, slow look, and then his gaze returned to mine. They were hot.

No, I don't think he was here to change his mind. But I was still scared nonetheless.

"Ana…." He started, standing up and taking a step towards me. His voice was serious, and I felt myself take a step back and sink back into myself.

"Are you here to tell me it was all a mistake?" I asked, my voice soft, tears threatening to spill.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked at me like I was speaking German, and then took the last step towards me and had me in his arms before I even realised he had moved again.

His lips were on mine. Hot and hungry. My arms wound around his neck, a mind of their own. My lips parted on a moan, his tongue starting a tango with mine.

I was in his arms, he was carrying me, two steps and I was laying on my back, back on the bed I had just vacated. My towel falling away from me. I was bare naked, and fully exposed to him.

I blushed as I watched him survey my body. His eyes returned to mine, all of a sudden, angry. He was angry.

"He marked you." He said, his voice hot with anger.

I didn't know what to say to that. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden. I was naked in front of a man for the first time in my life, and he was no longer looking at me, but at the bruises he knew would bet here. He was angry. I went to cover myself, and he was grasping my hands in his.

"I've been thinking about you, all night. All night Ana." He murmured, all traces of the anger he had a few seconds ago gone. His voice was soft, and hot, this time not with anger, but with something else.

The something else I was feeling but didn't quite know how to describe.

"May I kiss you?" he asked. I couldn't help but laugh. Hadn't he just been doing that?

"Yes." I whispered, my voice catching.

"May I touch you?"

"Yes" I croaked, my body wanting something unknown.

"May I…" he started but I interrupted.

"YES!" I said frustrated, my cheeks blazing red.

He laughed, a devilish laugh.

…

I woke up this morning, and all I could think about was her. I could still smell her scent on me, it still surrounded me, haunted me. And oh, the feeling of her skin against mine. Her lips.

Christ. I ran a hand through my hair. I was becoming an addict. Obsessed.

I had to see her.

Her parting words to me last night had haunted me. I knew what she meant, and I was going to do everything in my power to show her that things were different now. I wasn't fighting it anymore. Fighting my feelings for her.

I still couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that she had never been kissed. Being intimate with a man a man I could understand, but never being kissed. Wow. The men in her life, the men around her really must've been blind or dumb, or both. Or maybe it was her, I decided. For all my time observing her I never noticed her taking notice to all the looks, the looks of longing and desire she received. No, she was oblivious.

I was forever thankful for that.

I dressed quickly, not bothering with a shower and a shave. I had to see her.

I left the barracks ignoring all around me, throwing a few salutes when necessary, but otherwise marching with single minded determination.

I knocked on her door. I could hear her shuffling around inside, and what sounded like a shower. This was only confirmed when she permitted me to enter with the advisement that she was about to shower. I could wait for her, she said.

No problem. I'd been waiting for her my entire life, I could wait five minutes or however long it took women to shower. I had a feeling she was a no fuss type of woman, she didn't really need to fuss. Even dishevelled and worse for wear after her encounter with the soldier she had been resplendent. Gorgeous. Mine.

All mine. I was absolutely determined that was going to be the case.

I entered her room and sat down on her unmade bed. She must've just gotten up.

"Is everything ok?" her voice came to me from the doorway, sounding distinctly nervous and insecure.

Be still my beating heart I thought, as I caught sight of her and my mouth went dry. All of a sudden it felt like it was a 100 degrees in her room, and my clothes were altogether too tight.

There she was, naked except for a brief towel. Her clavicles, I noted sported a splattering of delicate freckles, and her shapely legs were bare…my gaze followed them from her feet to the hem of the towel. Miles long, I thought, my palms growing sweaty. I gulped.

Before I could stop myself I was standing up and taking a step towards her, my self-control, all restraint completely shot. "Ana." I murmured.

I wasn't sure what was going on, it looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Are you here to tell me it was all a mistake?"

She stopped me cold in my tracks, sobering me for a moment. But self-control was short lived. The quickest way for her to understand was to show her. I was next to her in an instant, drawing her into my arms. Oh god, she was warm and soft and she smelled exactly as I recalled.

I couldn't stop myself, my lips were on hers, devouring. I had intended to be tender, gentle, she deserve that. Her inexperience deserved to be eased into it. I had to woo her. I had decided. But dammit, I was devouring her, my lips hot and hungry. She responded with eagerness, an eager and ready participant, and as she allowed me to gain access to her mouth, I knew I was one second from losing all control.

I scooped her up and took the few small steps until she was flat on her back on the bed, splayed out for me, her towel falling to the side and revealing her body. I drank her in, like man dying of thirst. Gorgeous. My mind was quickly shutting down, but I needed to stop and savour the sight, this moment. My eyes roamed up her body, stopping at the bruises forming on her thighs and belly. He had marked her. My savage side wanted to come out.

"He marked you." I growled. I hadn't intended to say it, but some character traits are hard to repress.

She was blushing, and I could tell I had made her nervous. She went to cover herself, and I grasped her hands. That little slip up wasn't going to ruin the good morning this was turning out to be. A very good morning indeed. After all, I thought, pleased with myself, pleased with her, pleased with life, I had only intended to escort her for breakfast.

"I've been thinking about you, all night. All night Ana." I said, my voice husky and hoarse.

My god, I wanted her. All of her, in every way possible.

"May I kiss you?" I asked, not sure why.

"Yes." Her voice was but a breathless whisper.

"May I touch you?"

"Yes" she barely got out.

"May I…" I started to say, but was interrupted.

"YES!" I said frustrated, my cheeks blazing red.

I couldn't help but laugh as I buried my face in the side of her neck and her hair, breathing her in.

"I adore you." I whispered before I could stop myself. Adore wasn't the word I would've used, but it was too early for that and I didn't want to scare her away.

I had a tendency of coming on too strong too quick. It was part of being Sparky. Cocky and self-assured. But with her, I was undone. She deserved all the trappings of courting, a slow, romantic burn.

She deserved so many things, but many of those things I couldn't give her. Not now. Not with the world at war. We just didn't have time for that. Fucking Hitler.

She pulled me out of my thoughts my turning her head slightly and kissing my ear.

I couldn't stop the groan that came rumbling out of me. It felt so good.

She did it again, this time, she used the top of her tongue ever so gently.

That's it, I thought. I was supposed to be doing the seducing, and here she was seducing me with her gentle and timid actions.

"Ana…" I growled, moving back to devouring her lips.

She moved under me, her body trying to get closer. Heaven. Her hands were on my shoulder as our lips danced. I was quickly losing control.

I was about to remove my shirt, when there was two brief knocks on the door.

"Ana?"

It was Winters.

Ana took a moment to catch her breath.

"Yes?"

"A briefing has been called. The big show. It's in an hour at the CP."

"Yes, right. I'll be there."

"If you see Speirs, let him know. No one can locate him."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, her lips twitching, she was going to laugh.

She managed to squeak out "If I see him I'll be sure to tell him.", as she buried her face in to me to muffle her giggles.

I gave her a kiss, "Breakfast?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her flushed face, full of laughter, committing the sight of her at this moment to memory. Smiling, laughing, flushed, her hair in total disarray on the pillow, and completely naked. I would ignore the shiner.

She nodded unable to speak she was still giggling. "Go shower young lady. I'll wait for you here." I said in a teasing voice.

"I'm not that young." She said on a laugh as she wrapped the towel around herself and sat up, looking at me, her eyes still sparkling.

"You're all of what, thirty?" I said, even though I knew precisely how old she was.

She laughed, and gave me a pouty look, her eyes twinkling with humour. "As a matter of fact I will be the ripe old age of twenty three in a matter of weeks."

"Oh really?" I said, raising my eyebrow.

"Mmhmm. How old are you?" she asked me.

"Guess?" I said, enjoying our back and forth.

"Hmm. Well if I had to take a guess…hmm…my most educated guess based on the lack of grey in your hair and beard, the lack of lengthy nose hair, or ear fuzz….and your oral health…I'd say 25."

I couldn't help but laugh, and draw her to me, kiss her forehead. She was too damn adorable. "Educated guess you say?" I continued to laugh.

She withdrew from me, and looked at me, smiling. "Well? How old are you?"

"Twenty-three. I'll be twenty-four in April." I smiled.

"Hmm. We will have to do something for our birthdays." She said with a smile as she moved towards the shower.

I hoped we were somewhere and in a condition where we could celebrate by my birthday. I guess we would be finding out soon. At the very least I would make her birthday special. She deserved the stars and the moon, and I would endeavor to give them to her.

…

The briefing proved to be very intense. I was prepared for it. I knew what was coming. Eventually we would have to invade Europe. We all knew this. We were training to jump behind enemy lines. And now, after years of training, and months and months in England we finally knew the plan.

They the higher ups and intelligence officers had done a lot of planning. I was impressed, and feeling sufficiently confident. We had sand tables for the whole coast, the beach heads where various forces would be landing, positions of all the known guns. It was incredible. It now made perfect sense why the British had withdrawn back in 1940. And it made even more sense after that successful evacuation of the soldiers to Dunkirk that they had taken all this time, committed all this training and planning to the next invasion.

This invasion would win the war, I thought.

Yes. With a force like ours, all the Allies. The USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand the British, there was no way Hitler could prevail, and certainly not with the Russians coming at him from the East.

There would still be a tremendous loss of life. Any, or all of the men in the room could be dead by the end of the war, or the end of the invasion. I could be dead.

Ron. Ron could be dead.

As if he knew the direction of my thoughts, he looked up and gave me a small smile. Ever so subtle and only meant for me.

I returned it, and diverted my attention back to the speaker.

I had decisions to make. Would I be able to be a combatant? Or would I serve these men better as a surgeon?

I knew though, with the way I was feeling, I needed to be close to Ron, and Ron was a combatant.

I would have to seek out a meeting with the Colonel and discuss what he had in mind for me specifically. It was time to prepare myself for whatever may come.

It was time to face the ugly realities of a world where Hitler is in power. Fucking Hitler.

But in turn, I had to admit, if it wasn't for Hitler I wouldn't be in love. I would probably have never met Ron. Two different paths that converged because of one little man.

Yes, Freud would have a hay day with me. Here I am in the middle of the most important briefing and I'm thinking of Robert Frost poems. Jeez.

...

"Lieutenant MacLeod, I'd like to see you." Colonel Sink said, grasping my elbow gently as the briefing concluded.

"Sir? Yes Sir." I said, looking at him. Again, it was like everyone was reading my mind today.

"I wanted to talk to you about your role in this operation."

"Sir?"

"You've trained as a combatant, and have proven yourself extremely skilled as both a marksman and a field officer. And I recognize your medical training. However, with your education, your language knowledge, I would like you to work with Lieutenant Nixon."

"An Intelligence Officer, sir?" I asked, mulling it over in my mind.

"Yes."

"Will I be at the front sir, with the men?" I asked softly.

"If that is your wish, yes Lieutenant."

"Yes Sir."

"Then you will work with Lieutenant Nixon. Assist in intelligence operations, communications with the French, and other allied forces, questioning POW's. Deciphering maps."

"Yes Sir. I would like that, sir."

"Dismissed Lieutenant."

I saluted him, and turned and smiled to myself.

Ron was beside me moments later. And we walked together in companionable silence, both processing the briefing.

"What did Sink want to see you about?" he asked as we walked outside, into the rain.

I looked up at the sky, enjoying the feeling of rain on my face. A good mood that could not be ruined had settled over me from our morning interlude.

"Oh, just my orders for the invasion." I said with a smile as I took his hand in mind, and pulled him along, in a goofy dance in the rain.

Ron was serious, I could tell as he resisted the dance. "And?" he asked slightly impatient at the lack of information I had provided.

"I'm going to work with Nixon. Intelligence. I'll still be on the line, but…slightly removed." I said with a smile, diffusing the situation.

"Oh. Oh. I had hoped they would have you stay behind."

I gave him a look, a slack jawed look, and he continued "Work in the field hospital or something. Out of harm's way."

"I want to be on the line. I want to be near the men." You. I want to be near you, I thought, but didn't say it. "If someone is hurt, I can help before they even get to the field hospital. Besides, I speak German, French, Italian…" I started rambling off the languages I was fluent in.

"Jesus. Didn't you do anything else but study as a kid?" he asked, entertained.

"Mmm. Off course. But learning, learning came easy. Photographic memory." I said, tapping my brain.

"What does that mean?" he asked, obviously confused.

"It means I could re-create that sand table, the map of Normandy, right now, after only seeing it today, right now, and perfectly. I can picture it exactly in my mind."

"Show me. I'll bet you five bucks you can't." he said, cocky and grinning.

"What's the bet?" Nixon shouted as he jogged towards us.

"Ana here says she has a…what did you call it? Oh right, Photographic memory and that she can draw out the map of Normandy and that sand table right here, right now without getting one thing wrong." Ron said, smugly to Nix, giving me a wink."

"Is that so? I'll put five bucks in. Hey Dick, you want in?" Nix called out to Dick.

"You bet. But I bet she gets it right, and I'm willing to put 20 down." Dick said, giving me a smile.

"Boys, oh boys. Prepare to be amazed and cough up your cash." I said with a laugh, as I took Dick by the elbow. "Are you boys coming? Let's go find a chalk board."

…

She got it right.

Jesus.

A Princess. A Doctor. And a goddamn genius.

I better up my wooing. I thought, watching her smile and talk with Dick as they counted their cash. The other officers had heard about the bet as we went to find a chalkboard and all of them had joined in, but only Dick had bet on Ana's side.

Well, lesson learned. Always be on her side, even it sounds farfetched.

Damn, that's my girl. I couldn't get over it. My girl. It wasn't up for debate I decided. She was mine, and that was that.

…


	9. Chapter 8

Thank you for all of the reviews. Sorry it took so long to update. Between travel, work, jet lag and just generally being ill, I haven't had much time or inclination to write. And, to be honest, I really struggled with this chapter. I didn't want to catch myself writing chapter after chapter of fluff leading up to D-Day, so I figured I would jump right in, no pun intended.

I'm not too pleased with this, but I figured something was better than nothing.

* * *

|| June 6, 1944 ||

The inevitable had arrived. Tonight we would jump into Normandy, the great war machine of the Allied Forces.

I sat with the men having dinner, the last supper for many of us. The thought was not lost on me as I surveyed the room, taking in all the faces, some painted dark with charcoal and grease already. All faces were steely in resolve, very few showed the nerves that I knew had to be bubbling below the surface.

I knew mine were, as I averted my gaze back to my food, and felt Ron's hand tentatively touch my thigh. He had seen my perusal of the room and he knew me well enough by now to know my thought process.

"You ok?" He whispered gently into my ear. I looked at him and nodded. My emotions were too close to the surface and I stood abruptly and exited the dining tent, my breath coming in short gasps.

I knew he would follow me. He grasped my elbow and guided me to a dark area where there was no one about.

"Ana?" he prodded

I couldn't help myself, I pulled him close to me.

"No unnecessary risks?" I reaffirmed.

"No unnecessary risks." He agreed.

….

 _|| Flashback ||_

 _We were laying on a blanket in a meadow, a picnic spread out between us. An idyllic day in the English countryside. A stolen day, as close to normal as we could manage._

" _I really wish…." He started, going to his elbow and looking at me. "That you'd reconsider."_

 _I knew where he was going with this. This was the discussion we had had a million times, not always out loud._

" _You know that I can.t" I said softly, pleading with my eyes not end this conversation before we ruined this beautiful stolen moment._

" _I just want you safe Ana.' He whispered, running his finger along the length of my ear._

" _I know. And I want you to be safe. If I can help do that, then you know that I have to. I have to."_

" _I'll be worried about you. Constantly. I worry about you now." He whispered, vulnerable._

" _And I'll be worried about you. Constantly." I took a deep breath, and sat up. "Please Ron. You know that I can help."_

" _I know sweetheart. You can't blame me for wanting to keep you safe."_

" _Never." I whispered, leaning in to kiss him._

" _Promise me something Ana.' He whispered pulling his lips away from mine, and earning a pout._

" _Hmm?"_

" _Promise you won't take any unnecessary risks. Promise me."_

" _I promise." I whispered, leaning in to his kiss again. "Will you promise me the same?"_

" _I promise. No unnecessary risks."_

… _._

"Three day supply of K-rations, chocolate bars, Charms candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet, entrenching tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my weapon, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes, Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenade, Gammon grenade, TNT, THIS bullshit, and a pair of nasty skivvies!" Joe Toye exclaimed, his face marred with sarcasm. I couldn't help but laugh as I listened in on his tirade.

"What's your point?" Frank Perconte said raising an eyebrow.

"This stuff weighs as much as I do! I still got my 'chute, my reserve 'chute, my Mae West, my M1."

"Why you keeping the brass knuckles?"

"I could use some brass knuckles." Toye said with a cheeky grin. "Whaddya think Lieutenant, take out some Krauts with them?"

"Toye…" I said thoughtfully as I braided my hair as tightly as I could. "If you get close enough to a German to use those knuckles, you better make sure your punches are better than your aim."

They laughed. My gaze drifted back to Ron and his men near their C-47 transport. He looked over as if he could sense my gaze. He gave me a small smile

 _|| Flashback ||_

 _We were out walking after dinner on a Saturday night in March. It was a bit cool and damp from the recent rain, but it was refreshing. It was nice to be out, and doing something other than training. Nice to be out strolling around like a normal couple. A normal man and woman who were courting._

" _What would you be doing at home, right now?" Ron asked me, breaking the peaceful silence. His voice was thoughtful._

" _What would I be doing right now?" I asked._

 _He nodded._

" _Probably having lunch?"_

 _He laughed. "Not like that you goof. I mean, on a Saturday night at home, what would you be doing?"_

" _Studying. Cooking. Reading. Listening to music. All of the above, all at once?" I answered with a shrug._

" _What would you be cooking?" he asked thoughtfully._

" _Oh, I don't know. Maybe lasagna. Maybe a shepherd's pie. Maybe just a steak. But definitely cake. Carrot cake. With cream cheese frosting." I said wistfully._

 _He laughed "You like carrot cake?" He laughed further, "A lot apparently."_

 _I laughed, "Yea, it's the key to my heart." I said sarcastically._

" _So if I showed up with carrot cake with cream cheese frosting you would love me forever?" he asked on a laugh._

" _Nope."_

" _You just said it was the key to your heart!" he exclaimed._

" _mmm. But I already gave my heart away." I whispered._

 _He stopped walking, twisting me around to him._

" _To who?" he demanded, although he should've already known the answer._

" _To you."_

" _To me?"_

" _Mmm." I answered and kept walking, like it was no big deal, but he didn't follow._

" _Are you coming?" I called back, peaking over my shoulder. He ran to catch up, and stopped me again, by pulling me to his chest and kissing me deeply_

" _I love you too Ana." He whispered, his lips against mine, and his eyes boring into me._

" _I know." I whispered. "And I love you."_

 _We continued walking._

" _What would you be doing on a Saturday night back home?" I started to ask. "No wait. Let me change that. What would you be doing on a Saturday night back home if I was with you?"_

 _He looked thoughtful for a moment, and I could've sworn a light blush crept up beneath his collar._

" _I'd make sure you were fed, had your carrot cake, and then…and then I'd make you mine." He said, his voice husky._

 _I shivered. "I'm already yours." I responded._

" _No, Ana. Make you mine. Make love to you."_

 _Now it was my turn to blush. "Ohh."_

 _We walked a bit further down the street, when I suddenly stopped._

 _I waited for him to turn around and look at me. I managed to collect myself and harness all my courage._

" _Why don't we pretend we are back home?" I said, drawing his attention to the Inn I had stopped in front of._

" _Ana…"_

" _Make love to me, Ron. Like we are a normal couple in love. Like the world isn't at war." I whispered, my eyes on his, a pink flush in my cheeks._

 _It didn't take much more convincing than that._

" _I love you." He whispered as he took my hand and guided me towards the door._

" _I'd like a room please." He said to the inn keeper. "For Lieutenant and Mrs. Speirs." He fibbed, but it sounded so nice. Although it should be Lieutenant and Lieutenant Speirs, if you wanted to nitpick._

 _Key in hand he guided me up to the second floor, and to the door of our room. He picked me up in his arm and carried me over the threshold._

" _Seeing as we are 'married'" he said with a chuckle, his lips finding mine as he entered the room with me firmly in his arms and pressed tightly to his chest._

 _He set me down on my feet at the foot of the bed._

 _We stood there looking at each other for a moment, both of us suddenly a bit nervous._

" _Ana…" he said, taking a step towards me, his hand coming up to my hair, and letting it out of its pins. His fingers ran through my hair, eliciting a sigh of pleasure. Having my hair brushed, or played with was one of my favorite things._

 _My lips found his, as my hands found his chest. I removed his jacket, feeling the warmth of the man beneath. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, reminding me of just how alive we were. How vital._

" _Make love to me." I murmured softly against his lips, as I sat down on the bed, toeing off my shoes in the process._

 _He moved towards me, quick like a cat. Silent and deadly I thought, as my pulse sped up. He laid me down, his lips roving over mine like he couldn't get enough. His lips were on my ear, my neck, and lower still to the top of my shirt. He undid the buttons, gently, tentatively. He sat back and gazed down at me._

" _You are so beautiful. Perfect. An angel." He whispered, as he started to kiss my exposed chest._

 _Heavenly. I thought on a moan._

 _I helped him out of his shirt so that we could be skin to skin. The light smattering of hair on his chest tickled my own bare skin in a delicious way._

 _He was so warm. So smooth. And so mine._

" _I love you." I whispered as he unclasped my skirt, and drew it down my legs._

" _I love you." He whispered in my ear as he gently entered me._

 _The first, and if I had my way, the only._

…

"Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely. But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory!

I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!

Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking."

I finished reading the order of the Day from General Eisenhower, tucking the copy that had been handed to me in my pocket. This was a historical moment, and this order, so beautifully written was one for the history books.

Sitting on the grass outside of the C-47 that was to fly us over the channel, I finally found the courage to open the parcel from my mother.

Inside was a frayed piece of silk, and a folded note card.

My darling daughter,

I have only one gift to bestow upon you. May it bring you a long and healthy life full of love and laughter.

It is my piece of the fairy flag.

Our family is rich in history and in myths. However, they say that many, many years ago, the Chief of Clan MacLeod was a handsome, intelligent man, and all the young ladies in the area were very attracted to him, but none suited his fancy. One day, he met a fairy princess, a bean sidhe, one of the Shining Folk. Like all the other females he met, she fell madly in love with him, and he with her as well. When the princess appealed to the King of the Fairies, for permission to marry the handsome Chief, he refused, saying that it would only break her heart, as humans soon age and die, and the Shining Folk live forever. She cried and wept so bitterly that even the great King relented, and agreed that she and the Chief could be hand-fasted for a year and a day. But, at the end of that time, she must return to the land of Fairie and leave behind everything from the human world. She agreed, and soon she and the young MacLeod were married with great ceremony.

No happier time ever existed before or since for the Clan MacLeod, for the Chief and Lady MacLeod were enraptured of each other totally. As you might expect, soon a strapping and handsome son was born to the happy couple, and the rejoicing and celebration by the Clan went on for days. However, the days soon passed and a year and a day were gone in a heartbeat. The King led the Fairie Raide down from the clouds to the end of the great causeway of Dunvegan Castle, and there they waited in all their glamour and finery for the Lady MacLeod to keep her promise.

Lady MacLeod knew that she had no choice, so she held her son to her, hugged him tightly, and at last, ran from the castle tower to join the Fairie Raide, and returned with them to the land of Fairie. Before she left, however, she made her husband promise that her child would never be left alone, and never be allowed to cry, for she could not bear the sound of her son's cries. The Chief was broken-hearted with the loss of his wife, but he knew, as did she, that the day would come when she would return. He kept his promise, and never was the young MacLeod allowed to cry and never was he left unattended. However, the Laird of MacLeod remained depressed, and grieved for the loss of his lady.

The folk of the clan decided that something must be done, and on his birthday, a great feast was proclaimed with revelry and dancing until dawn. The Laird had always been a grand dancer, and at long last he agreed to dance to the pipers' tunes. So great was the celebration that the young maid assigned to watch the infant Laird left his nursery and crept to the top of the stairs to watch the folk dancing in all their finery and to listen to the wonderful music. So enraptured was she that she did not hear the young Laird awaken and begin to cry. So pitiful was his crying that it was heard all the way in the Land of Fairie, and when his mother heard it, she immediately appeared at his crib, took him in her arms, and comforted him, drying his tears and wrapping him in her fairy shawl. She whispered magic words in his ears, laid her now-sleeping son in his crib, kissed him once more on the forehead, and was gone.

Years later when the young lad grew older, he told his father of his mother's late-night visit, and that her shawl was a magic talisman. It was to be kept in a safe place, and if anyone not of the Clan MacLeod touched it, they would vanish in a puff of smoke. If ever the Clan MacLeod faced mortal danger, the Fairy Flag was to be waved three times, and the hosts of Fairie, the Knights of the Fairie Raide, would ride to the defence of the Clan MacLeod. There were to be three such blessings, and only in the most dire consequences should the Fairie magic be used. The Chief placed the Fairy Flag in a special locked box, and it was carried with the Chief wherever he went.

Hundreds of years later, the fierce Clan Donald of the Lord of the Isles had besieged the MacLeods in battle, and the MacLeods were outnumbered three to one. Just before the Donalds' last charge, the Chief opened the box, and placing the fairy flag on a pole, waved it once, twice, and three times. As the third wave was completed, the Fairy magic caused the MacLeods to appear to be ten times their number! Thinking that the MacLeods had been reinforced, the Donalds turned and ran, never to threaten the MacLeods to this very day.

You see my darling, our family is steeped in history, tradition and lore. I firmly believe that my piece of the flag brought me my greatest joy. You. My love. You. Keep this near you, close to your heart and I will always be with you, keeping you safe.

Love always,

Mum.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as quickly as I could, hoping that no one had noticed. I only had moments, and made a quick decision.

I jogged over to Ron, and ripped a small piece of the fabric, kissed it, and thrust it at him, along with the note from my mother, and ran back to Dick's waiting hands as he helped me climb into the plane.

..

The plane was cold, and it was so very loud, and yet I found myself asleep, held upright by Winters on my left and the man on my right, only to be woken by the sound and vibrations of anti-aircraft rounds exploding outside the plane.

All hell broke loose, there were planes on fire and falling from the sky as paratroopers tried to escape. We were nowhere near our DZ as far as I could tell based off travel time, but the green light flicked on, and off the plan we went. We were too low and travelling to fast, I felt my leg bag fly away from the prop blast. My eardrums ruptured, and the world went silent around me as I floated to the ground, one in many thousand white parachutes.

My boots hit the ground and I quickly disengaged my chute and made my way to cover, looking around for another Screaming Eagle, anyone friendly.

I could hardly hear anything, and could feel the blood pooling in my ear from the rupture ear drum.

Fuck. Was all I could think. I took a deep breath, and gathered my wits. I took stock of what I had. My pistol and my rifle, luckily. I had a feeling about the leg bag, something about gravity. Seems I had been correct, and was relieved I had kept my weapon on my body.

I knew I needed to find a landmark, anything that could indicate to me where I was exactly, then I could figure out where I needed to go.

A twig snapped behind me, and I sunk deeper into the soft ground. "Flash" a voice said.

Relief flooded through me. "Thunder" I whispered.

The soldier approached me. He was someone I didn't recognize.

"Private Mann, Dog Company." He whispered, and I nodded.

"Lieutenant MacLeod. Easy Company."

"I know. Everyone knows."

"Do you know where we are?" I whispered, looking around, and turning my right ear towards him, hoping to hear him better.

"No fucking clue. Blew the dz."

Yeah, just as I thought.

I pulled out my compass and by the light of the moon directed us South East, hoping that along the way we would encounter little resistance and more of our own. Hopefully our scattered landing would confuse the Germans. And hopefully we would find a landmark and I could guide us to where we needed to be.

Hopefully.

God, I hope Ron is ok.

I shook myself out of it. Hope was for the wishing, and I needed to do. To survive we needed to get moving. One foot in front of the other.

"Let's get a move on Private Mann from Dog Company." I said gently as I pointed where I wanted us to go. He acknowledged and off we went, as quietly as humanly possible.

A few miles down our path Mann stopped. He signalled he could hear men speaking.

"Flash." He said.

"Thunder" the voice responded.

"Lipton." I said, relieved. I grasped his arm, and he gave me a once over. "Figure out where we are yet?" I asked softly.

"Figure we need to head 8 miles south East." He whispered. "My best guess."

I nodded, I figured it to be more like 10. "We better get a move on."

There were five of us now, and we encountered sporadic resistance. I managed to make it through the night without having to fire my weapon.

We managed to reach the rally point, just as the beach landings were starting, and they were getting shelled to high hell. I could only imagine the carnage.

I knew from my father that shelling, and the damage from shelling was horrendous. The amount of trauma one shell could inflict on so many. I shuddered at the memories of his stories.

"We have to take out those guns." I heard Winters say, as he gathered men together, "They are slaughtering the men on the beach."

Four guns, hidden in a hedgerow that aerial surveillance had missed. A full on assault.

It was now or never.

"I'll go." I said to Dick.

"Are you sure?" he asked me, pointing to my ears and the blood drying on my neck. "You are shouting, you know that, right?"

I nodded.

He thought for a moment. "I'd like you to stay here. Only one medic has made it here thus far. The men need you here."

Subconsciously I was relieved. "Yes Sir."

I made my way to the makeshift aid station as Dick led the men he had pulled together out of the village to take out the German artillery.

There were several men with various degrees of injuries. I quickly assessed the situation, and jumped in. A few gunshot wounds, and a lot of sprains and twisted ankles for the landing. I wrapped feet and knees, removed bullets and cleaned wounds for what seemed like forever.

One of the men came running back, one of the men that had left with Winters. I could still vaguely hear the artillery, one maybe two guns, instead of the constant firing of the four. That was a positive sign. I couldn't quite make out what was being said, but then, there he was. My Ron.

He ran out with the man, as I looked on, his company following him in the direction Winters had gone.

Christ. What was going on, I thought?

I walked over to a man that had seen and heard the entire conversation between the solider and Speirs.

"Where did Lieutenant Speirs go?" I asked the young Corporal.

"Lieutenant, M'am. To bring ammo to Lieutenant Winters."

"Thank you."

I distracted myself with more injured men until I could no longer hear or feel the guns.

They had succeeded, with one fatality and one injured.

They brought Popeye to me, he blushed red as he saw me.

"Where are you hit?" I asked, genuinely concerned and a bit confused as I observed the way the men brought him in.

He blushed deeper and I looked on bewildered as I could see no apparent injury.

"My ass." He said bluntly. "My bum.

"No shit?" I said, on a chuckle, as I leaned down towards his backside and got a look at the rip in his trousers and the blood stain. "Alright. I guess I'll have to take a closer look at your bum Popeye."

"Yea yea." He acknowledged.

I gave him a syrette of morphine as I dug the bullet out of his buttock, cleaned the wound, and stitched it up.

I stood up, and went to wash my hands, and came face to face with Ron.

"You're safe." We both said at the same time. His hand came to my face, and his thumb rubbed at a smudge of grease.

"Ana, you are shouting." He said, a bit confused.

I nodded, a blush creeping to my cheeks, as I took a quick look around. No one had stopped doing what they were doing, and were paying little attention to us, even with my raised voice.

I pointed to my ears.

"You can't hear me?" he asked, surprised.

I shook my head, and lead him outside to find relative privacy.

I did my best to lower my tone. "Rupture ear drum from the prop blast." I said softly.

"Will it heal? Are you ok?" he asked quickly, rubbing a bit of crusted blood from underneath my ear.

I nodded. "I'll be ok. Can barely hear. Worst that can happen is an ear infection."

He shook his head and pulled out the piece of tattered silk I had thrust at him, along with my mother's note.

"I think you need this more than I do." He said.

"I have some. You keep that. Please. For me."

"Alright." He said, running his thumb along my cheek bone. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"For sharing it with me. For letting me read your mother's note."

"She really believed it." I said, standing on my toes, to give him a quick, kiss. "I choose to believe it to."

"I love you." He said, returning my kiss. "I have to go." He said, as he turned to leave.

He was several steps away when he turned again, and loudly said. "I believe it to."

…

The men were talking about someone hosing a group of German POWs. I could only catch snippets of the conversation, they were speaking to low for me. I was too tired to care.


	10. Chapter 9

I'm so sorry this took so long to be posted. I really really struggled with this chapter, and I hate it. It's kinda one of those 'lead into' chapters and it just plain stinks. Regardless, I hope you stick with me because it will get better (I hope, and I will be updating consistently again... the story just flows better if I sit down and write the entire chapter at once instead of trying to write here and there, which is what happened with this one...)

Thank you for your reviews! I appreciate them greatly!

L

* * *

||7 June 1944 ||

"Churchill, have you received any further information from Eisenhower?"

"No, Your majesty. Information has been slow in coming. No one is certain of the outcome of Overlord." Churchill responded, mopping a bit of sweat from his brow as he sat facing His Majesty, the King.

"I expect a complete briefing as soon as information is received. Regardless of the hour."

Churchill nodded.

….

All the way to France, and sitting in a fox hole in a hedgerow. The irony was not lost on me, as I sat shivering in the dark, alone in my fox hole.

We took the village of Carentan, a strategically important position for us in order to move our troops and tanks off the beaches. A strategically important position of the Germans to keep us at bay, and control the cross-roads and halt our advance. It was a hard fought battle, but we managed to prevail.

Winters took a sniper bullet in the ankle, unfortunately. But, fortunately for him, I was there to pull it out for him, as gently as possible. We ended up moving out shortly after, until we encountered heavy resistance, and found ourselves pinned down in a row of trees below a hill, with the German at the top of said hill.

The Germans were singing, a joyful tune considering the invasion of Normandy and the ferocious battles being fought all over France at this very moment. Considering the enormous loss of life for both sides.

I was lost in my thoughts I didn't even hear someone approach.

'Annie…" the voice whispered, as the body slid into the foxhole with me, startling me out of my reverie.

"Jesus Christ Nix, you scared me…" I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Apparently. And I'm not even quiet." He said thoughtfully, "Are you ok?" he asked, looking me over.

I nodded.

"You sure? You look pale."

"We are all pale Nix, and tired and cold." I said on a whisper.

I wasn't okay, but I could never admit that. The wounded men I had helped, or tried to help as best I could, the ones that I couldn't help, and the ones that didn't even have a chance and died alone weighed heavily on my mind. The ground all over France was red with the blood of the Allied men.

"Annie?" I asked, quirking my brow at him, trying to put him at ease.

"Mmm. Sounded more American." He said with a chuckle. "Here, I brought you a blanket. You sure you are ok here by yourself?"

I nodded. "Thanks for the blanket. What's the plan?"

"Attack at 0500 unless attacked first."

I nodded, as he quickly left my fox hole.

He was gone no more than twenty seconds when I heard the rustling in the bushes.

"Flash." I called out gently.

"Thunder." The shadow said as it joined me in the foxhole. Apparently I was popular tonight.

"Annie…"Ron said with a grin as he looked me over.

"You heard Nixon, did you?" I said, quirking my brow at him.

"I was waiting for him to leave. He beat me to you by moments." He said on a laugh. "Annie, I kind of like it."

"You call me that and I'll be calling you Ronnie."

He shuddered. "Ana it is. Or maybe, Baby, sweetheart, darling, angel. My love."

I couldn't help the giggle.

"Kidding aside, you ok?"

I nodded, looking down at my hands, stained with blood and dirt, regardless of how many times I had tried to wash the blood off of them. It had seeped into my pores.

"Sweetheart…" he whispered, his index finger gently lifting my chin so I would make eye contact with him.

"I'm just tired, like everyone else." I whispered, fighting valiantly to hold my emotions.

He nodded, not releasing my chin, as he leaned in to kiss me.

"I've been waiting to do that, for days it seems." He whispered huskily, drawing me into him. He was so warm, I sank into him without any resistance.

"If you aren't ok, you can talk to me. You know that right?" he said softly into my ear as I closed my eyes.

"I know. I just can't right now. If I start thinking about it, I'll fall apart. I'll do that later. When this is all over and we can all put this behind us."

"Ok Sweetheart."

He stayed with me for a few minutes more, but we both knew he couldn't stay. He left me with a kiss and made sure I would be warm enough, and then left me. He had his own men to prepare for the morning assault.

…

She wasn't ok. It was very apparent, but she was trying to be strong. For who, I don't know. She didn't need to be strong for me, I already thought her the bravest woman I had ever met, or ever would met. No, for herself I figured, she was acting brave and strong for herself. I could see it though, in her eyes, she was struggling.

I hated to leave her, I hated that I really couldn't take her into my arms and tell her it was all going to be ok. No, I had to leave her, alone in the dark in that damp fox hole all by herself. I hoped Nixon would at least go and sit with her. I wish I could, but I had my own company to lead.

We had lost men, I couldn't dwell on it, wouldn't dwell on it. There would be a time to reflect and a time to mourn. Right now we needed to survive, make it back to England, and win the war. Now was a time to fight.

A noise on our line caught my attention

"Flash." I said softly, my body on full alert, weapon at the ready.

"Thunder, thunder. Lieutenant Speirs, sir." Came the rapid fire response from an Easy Private as I approached him, lowering my weapon.

"Where are you going, private?"

"Check out the noise, sir."

"I just came from there. Everything's under control." It was my only stop after seeing Ana. Another Easy company Private had been stabbed by a comrade's bayonet, mistaken for a Kraut. It was almost comical. Almost.

"Yes sir."

"You got some nervous privates in your company."

"We do, sir. Yeah we do. I can vouch for that."

"They just don't see how simple it is."

"Simple? What is, sir?"

"Just do what you have to do." I said simply.

"Like you did on D-Day, sir? Lieutenant. Sir, when I landed on D-Day, I found myself in a ditch all by myself. I fell asleep. I think it was... it was the air sickness pills they gave us. When I woke up I really didn't try to find my unit... to fight. I just... I just kind of stayed put." Blithe confessed.

"What's your name, trooper?"

"Blithe, sir. Albert Blithe."

"You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?"

"I was scared."

"We're all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier's supposed to function. Without mercy, without compassion, without remorse. All war depends on it."

There was a soft gasp. I looked at Blithe, but the sound hadn't come from him. I whirled around to see Ana, her hands cupped over her mouth, tears sparkling in her green eyes.

"There is always hope." Her soft voice said as she turned and left, so very quickly.

….

I was shaking. My stomach was rolling and my throat was burning with the aftermath of vomiting. I made no attempt to stop the tears as I wiped my mouth and took another small sip of water to rinse my mouth.

I had followed Ron to check up on the noise after he left. I had heard no gunshots and yet there were painful cries coming from our line. I saw that Roe had it under control and followed the shadow of Ron as he made his way back to his position on the line.

I just needed to see him for a moment longer. I was feeling weak. I needed to tell him I wasn't ok, but I knew someday I would be. I needed to see his face, and be in his warm embrace for a few moments longer.

Private Blithe appeared before I could alert Ron to my presence, and then I was too enthralled with their conversation, this was the Ron I rarely saw, the commanding officer. My enigma. Such a hard ass with all the men but a gentle and loving soul with me.

I couldn't believe what he had said to the young Private who was terrified. Give up hope. How could he. If he said that, he meant it. Give up hope and concede you are already dead. He said it, because he meant it. He meant it because he believed it.

My heart broke in that moment. Hearing those words coming from his mouth. My world stopped.

Oh, I knew it was a reality that one of us, or both of us could perish in this war but I believed. I had hope. Other than Ron, it was the only thing I had, and I was holding on for dear life.

But he, he had already given up. On himself, on me, on us and our future.

Those words he said to the Private, no, the held a lot of meaning.

I found myself retching again my head spinning. I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm myself, and found that I could in fact sleep. I was so very tired.

….

The next morning we took the German position and then found ourselves on the back to England.

I saw Ron after we took the German position on the hilltop. Dog Company had retreated leaving our flank exposed, and yet we managed to prevail.

I had worried that something had happened to Ron, I couldn't imagine him ordering his men to retreat leaving our company so exposed. I caught sight of him, as he was approaching me as I spoke to Dick and Lewis. He looked fine, and I quickly left my companions to carry out my own orders, prepare to head back to England.

I was avoiding him. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what I was feeling, and every time I attempted to think about it, I was ill.

Heartbreak, I thought, it was a real thing. Not only did it hurt in your chest, but everywhere else in your body.

If he tried to speak to me on the way back to England, I didn't know. I had brought my knees up to my chin, and laid my head on my knees and gone to sleep.

…

She was so pale, sitting there, curled in on herself, sound asleep. Dark purple circles decorated her under eyes, so dark they could've been mistaken for bruises.

Tired. I knew she was tired, we all were.

She looked so delicate, so fragile, and yet I knew she was strong, beyond words. Stronger than some of the brave men in our companies. She stirred slightly under my gaze, her body trembling as if she could sense me even in her sleep.

I laid my jacket over top of her legs, and hoped it would provide a little warmth, and turned and left her, even if all I wanted was to sit down next to her and bring her into my chest and wrap my arms around her while she slept.

But, she was whole, and we were returning to England for a reprieve, I could be satisfied with that. In England we were going to talk.

…

I awoke with a start, the waves rocking causing sea sickness, an unfamiliar sensation for me. We were approaching land, England. Sighing with relief, I untucked my stiff legs from under myself, and noticed the jacket lying next to me.

Speirs.

I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, but the question was, was I ready to talk to him? His words had crushed me, and I wasn't so sure he would understand. It felt like he had broken his promise to me. We promised to hold on, no matter what, to be safe.

I would return his jacket, I decided. I would leave something of myself with it.

I was always better with written words, the ones you have time to think about, when you can say everything you mean without losing focus due to emotion or body language. The ones where you don't have to witness the response.

 _Ron -_

 _'Hope' is the thing with feathers—_

 _That perches in the soul—_

 _And sings the tune without the words—_

 _And never stops—at all—_

 _And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—_

 _And sore must be the storm—_

 _That could abash the little Bird_

 _That kept so many warm—_

 _I've heard it in the chillest land—_

 _And on the strangest Sea—_

 _Yet, never, in Extremity,_

 _It asked a crumb—of Me_

 _Do not give up, on yourself. On life and living. You are strong, and so brave. Do not give up, do not despair, and please do not accept death._

 _I heard everything you said to Private Blithe. You are a strong, intelligent man, an excellent soldier and an inspiring leader. But my darling, you are wrong._

 _We fight because we hope. We hope for humanity, for a better tomorrow. We fight for life, to save those living in oppression, for the conquered and the already vanquished._

 _We fight for love, with the hope of the next generations._

 _There is no point without hope. No point in fighting, no point in loving, no point to life without hope._

 _You may give up on me, on life, but I will never give up on you. I will fight for you, for your life. I will see my life end to save yours, at all costs. You have taught me what love is, and I will fight for it, I will fight for you. I will show you that hope exists, regardless how much it pains me to do so._

 _I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it, anywhere I go, you go, my dear and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling. I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world, for you are my world, and it's true, you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing._

 _Here is the deepest secret nobody knows, here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life, which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide and this is the wonder that that's keeping the stars apart._

 _I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart._

 _Always with hope,_

 _Ana._

Upon arrival back in England we were immediately given passes. I planned on returning Ron's jacket and then finding myself a warm, quiet place to sleep. It was inevitable, we would be back in mainland Europe, when I wasn't sure.

I found Ron as we disembarked from the ship, and I handed him his jacket that I had neatly folded to conceal the pieces of paper I had tucked into the outer pocket.

"Thank you.." I whispered, looking him in the eyes. My world spun, and I felt a flush creep into my cheeks, and the rest of the world, all the boisterous men surrounding us seemed to dissipate into the background.

He reached out for me and I took a step back. I couldn't let him touch me just yet. I needed to know he would fight, not just the war, but for us.

I shook my head slightly at his hand.

"Ana…" he whispered his voice hoarse, his eyes searching mine before I looked at my feet, turned and walked away.

It took all my strength to walk away from him, the man I love. Who said he loved me.

But how can you love without hope?

…

"Speirs, you ok?" Dick Winters asked me as I slumped down into a chair at the table he was sharing with Nixon in the local pub.

How was I to answer that? The woman I love wouldn't as much as talk to me.

I nodded my head, taking a deep drink of my Scotch.

"You sure?" He persisted, but Nixon interrupted.

"What is going on with you and Annie?"

I raised my eyebrow at him, amused. "Annie is it?"

He nodded, his eyes probing me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, being obtuse.

He looked at me pointedly, and then back at Winters.

"She was crying." They said in unison.

"Crying? When?" I asked, worry creeping into my voice.

"In the hedgerow. Went to check on her after Talbert was stabbed." Winters said softly.

I cupped my mouth, and sighed.

"She overheard me talking to Blithe."

"Blithe?" Winters asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He confided, or confessed what happened to him on D-Day….how he stayed where he landed. Did try and find Easy. That he was scared."

"We are all scared." Nixon and Winters said in unison again. They were like bloody twins, I smirked, amused.

"What did you say to him? Nixon persisted.

"I told him that we are all scared. I told him the sooner he accepts the fact that he is already dead the sooner he will be able to function as a soldiers supposed to function. I told him he hid because he hoped he would survive."

They looked at each other, silent.

"What?" I said looking back and forth between the two of them.

They said nothing, just shook their heads leaving me to replay my words to Blithe, over and over in my head. What had I said?

...

"I have an urgent message for His Majesty."

"Speak."

"She is alive. Back in England."

"Send for her, immediately."

"Your Majesty, she will be receiving orders soon."

"To do what?"

"Jump into Holland to connect with a Canadian Unit before the rest of the airborne jump in."

"Jumping alone?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"What other news?"

"She acted as an Intelligence Officer, but spent the vast majority of her time taking care of the wounded. She has formed a relationship with a fellow Lieutenant."

"An American?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Who is he?"

"Lieutenant Ronald Speirs."

"What else?"

"Pardon your Majesty, but this is all I have."

"I want to know more about this man. Where he comes from, who is family is. Everything."

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Dismissed."

…


	11. Chapter 10

This was so much easier to write, mostly because it's total bs and doesn't follow the course of the story, not exactly. Phew.

Thanks for the review on the previous chapter, I really did hate it. But, I'm pleased I was able to keep my promise, and here you go...another chapter, although very brief!

* * *

I was drunk. Completely inebriated. Drinking with Lewis Nixon was a dangerous game, and I wish I hadn't tried to play, or even to keep up. No one could hold their liquor like Nixon and I had been a melancholic fool and thought it would make me feel better.

How stupid could I be?

Oh, pretty darn stupid, I admonished myself subconsciously thinking of my mother, and that stern look she would give me as a young boy. The look I hated, with her hands on her hips, and the wooden spoon in her hand. She would disapprove of my behaviour, it was not befitting a gentleman.

It took me a moment to gather my bearings and sit up in bed. I would never drink with Nixon again. No, I would never drink again. Period. I hadn't felt this poorly since my first time drinking. Oh. Memories. I was too damn old to be doing this to myself.

After a moment I got up off the bed and found my jacket, looking for my pack of Lucky Strikes. I pulled them out, put one between my lips and searched my pocket for my lighter.

Odd, I thought, there was a thick piece of paper tucked below my lighter. I pulled both out.

My name was scrawled neatly across the front, in an elegant cursive I recognized as Ana's.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, the cigarette forgotten in my mouth and unfolded the piece of paper.

 _Ron -_

 _'Hope' is the thing with feathers—_

 _That perches in the soul—_

 _And sings the tune without the words—_

 _And never stops—at all—_

 _And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—_

 _And sore must be the storm—_

 _That could abash the little Bird_

 _That kept so many warm—_

 _I've heard it in the chillest land—_

 _And on the strangest Sea—_

 _Yet, never, in Extremity,_

 _It asked a crumb—of Me_

 _Do not give up, on yourself. On life and living. You are strong, and so brave. Do not give up, do not despair, and please do not accept death._

 _I heard everything you said to Private Blithe. You are a strong, intelligent man, an excellent soldier and an inspiring leader. But my darling, you are wrong._

 _We fight because we hope. We hope for humanity, for a better tomorrow. We fight for life, to save those living in oppression, for the conquered and the already vanquished._

 _We fight for love, with the hope of the next generations._

 _There is no point without hope. No point in fighting, no point in loving, no point to life without hope._

 _You may give up on me, on life, but I will never give up on you. I will fight for you, for your life. I will see my life end to save yours, at all costs. You have taught me what love is, and I will fight for it, I will fight for you. I will show you that hope exists, regardless how much it pains me to do so._

 _I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart. I am never without it, anywhere I go, you go, my dear and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling. I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world, for you are my world, and it's true, you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing._

 _Here is the deepest secret nobody knows, here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life, which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide and this is the wonder that that's keeping the stars apart._

 _I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart._

 _Always with hope,_

 _Ana._

Oh god, was my first thought as I rubbed my left hand across my cheek, the letter securely in the right. Oh god. I dropped the letter to the bed and realised that not only was I hung over but I had a tears in my eyes.

Sparky my ass. If people only knew what one little letter could do to me. No, it wasn't the letter, it was the woman who wrote it. The woman I love, the woman you had I broken with a few poorly chosen words.

And what was worse, I cursed, Blithe had been seriously wounded before we left France.

Fuck it all to hell. I had to make it right.

First, I needed coffee and a cigarette, maybe a vomit, and definitely a shower.

….

"Lieutenant MacLeod here to say…"

"Ana come on."

I was having breakfast meeting with Sink and had received his summon late the previous evening from a runner. I was quite surprised that he had only requested me, surprised but completely relieved. Relieved because I had heard the other officers in the company come back in the wee hours of the morning. I had heard Nixon singing and belching and heard the futile attempts Winters made to get him to be quiet and sober up before the MP's heard him.

They had a wild night and I was more than thankful that I had bade a hasty retreat before anyone could invite me to participate. No, I had had a quiet evening alone. I took a long hot shower, and stretched out my achy muscles. Spent awhile brushing out my hair, an indulgence that wasn't proper fox hole etiquette, and then I had gone to bed.

I had slept like the dead until the runner had woken me from my sleep. At first I thought it was Ron. I knew he would come looking for me. But it wasn't, it was Sinks runner with a message.

No, Ron never came to find me. I wouldn't allow myself to think about that, not with Sink looking at me in expectation.

He had asked me a question and I needed to answer. "I'm very well Sir."

"You are a smart girl Lieutenant. Pardon, smart woman, a very smart woman. You know that this isn't a social call." He didn't waste any time, I thought.

I nodded my head, my full attention focused on him, locking my broken heart and overwhelming sadness down deep.

"We need you to do something for us."

"Sir?"

"Need you to jump into Holland, rendezvous with the Dutch resistance outside of Eindhoven and they will connect you with a Canadian Unit, they have some vital intelligence for us."

"Sir." I said, nodding my head.

He looked me up and down, chewing his bottom lip for a moment, deep in thought. "Now, Lieutenant, if for one moment you aren't comfortable with this command, you tell me now."

"Intelligence that will save lives? Sir." I inquired.

He nodded, "Intelligence that will save many Allied lives, could very well end this war. Could provide our clear path into Nazi Germany."

I nodded my head in acceptance. "No issues Sir."

He nodded and handed me a thick manila envelope. "Your instructions, everything you will need. Oh, and that package there…" he said pointing to another wrapped parcel, "Civilian clothes."

"Good luck Lieutenant, and we will see you in Eindhoven."

…

My orders and objective were clear. Link up with the Dutch Resistance and link with Canadian and Polish ground forces. Infiltrate a Kraut held town, capture an SS Commander. The 101st would be following me a few days later and with the intelligence I had gather from the various sources I was to link up meet with, would be able to secure the bridges and forge a pathway into Germany.

It all sounded so easy, I thought sarcastically, but nothing ever was.

I didn't have a whole heck of a lot of time to gather my things, or to speak to anyone. My departure was top secret, which was evident as Nixon wasn't even aware. The look he and Dick had given me when I asked them to post the letters to my family and bring me my bag when we met up made the secrecy plainly evident.

"Huh, why don't you do it?" he had said to me, his voice hoarse, his skin grey and emitting the potent scent of stale alcohol.

"I'm leaving." Was all I said.

"Leaving, where?" Dick had asked, approaching me from my left.

"In my bag, there is a manila envelope. Read it later, after I've gone." I said, as I walked out of the barracks, with them following me, my bag and letters forgotten on the table.

"Where are you going, Ana?" Dick said, reaching out and grabbing my elbow.

"To the airfield." I said simply.

"Ana?" Both he and Nixon said, "Is this because of Speirs?"

"No, I have orders. It's fine. I'll see you soon, open the envelope when I leave."

"You are in your jump suit." Nixon said as he scratched his forehead.

"Observant." I muttered, with a small laugh.

"Come on Nix, let's just walk her to the plane." Winters said, finally deciding they weren't going to get any information out of me, at least not until I was gone.

They gave me a shove up into the plane.

"See you soon." I said to them with a small smile and a wave.

"Be careful Ana." Nixon said. "What do you want us to tell Speirs?"

I stopped in the doorway and looked back at him, my mind wandering to Ron. "Give him the envelope. Let him read it…" I paused for a moment, reigning in my feelings. "There is always hope. The acts of a few can inspire the masses…" I trailed off softly as the pilot indicated it was time to take-off.

I gave Nix and Dick one more wave and went and took my seat as they headed to the side of the airstrip and out of the path of the plane.

The plane started to roll down the airstrip, and I finally found myself realising what exactly I was doing.

There is always hope, I reminded myself. If I could save lives, even just one, it would be worth it.

…

Searching for Ana

It was well past noon when I was finally able to leave my bed. I still couldn't believe I had been so dumb, so reckless, to spend my night drinking with Lew. The hangover was punishment enough, but what made it all the more awful was knowing I had spent the whole night with Ana's pain so clearly composed on a piece of paper in my jacket pocket.

I made my way around the base to the barracks that she was housed in along with the other Easy officers as she was before the invasion, and found it empty.

Odd, I thought, Nixon should still be in bed.

As I was leaving I ran into Compton.

"Have you seen Lieutenant MacLeod?" I asked him, "Or Nixon? Winters?"

He nodded. "Yea, I saw Ana earlier this morning, she was heading over to Sinks office and just a little while ago with Lew and Dick heading over to the airfield." He responded, squinting into the sunlight.

"The airfield?" I asked, confused.

"If you hurry you can probably catch up to them." He said, as I moved in that direction and he headed into the barracks.

I walked as quickly as I could over to the airfield only stopping to salute a few men and higher ups.

What the hell were they doing at the airfield? Why would she be meeting with Sink? I had a foreboding feeling in my gut, or it was just the heart burn from the hangover rearing its ugly head, yet again.

I spotted Nixon and Winters standing to the side by one of the anti-aircraft guns and a few British soldiers, as a plane took off.

"Where's Ana?" I asked, not caring if I was being abrupt and rude, hell, they had been around me since Georgia, they knew what I was like, no need to sugar coat it.

Neither of them looked at me, but both were staring at the plane ascending up into the clouds. After a moment, just as I was starting to simmer Nixon turned to me and said "On the plane."

"What plane?" I barked, annoyed at the obtuse response. "That plane?" I said pointing up at the clouds.

Both Nixon and Winters nodded.

"What the hell!" I exclaimed, diverting their attention from the sky to me. "What the bloody hell!"

No response.

"Where is she going?" I demanded.

"Didn't say." Nixon said, cupping his mouth and looking at me.

"What do you mean she didn't say?"

"She got orders Speirs, calm down."

"What orders?" I demanded, my face was certainly flushed with anger now.

"She wouldn't or couldn't say." Winters said, and then both he and Nixon looked at each other.

"The envelope!" they exclaimed in unison and took off back towards the barracks.

Flabbergasted and pissed, I followed close on their heels.

"What the fuck…" I exclaimed, as we entered the barracks, "Is going on?"

Nixon reached a bag, evidently Ana had left it for him to bring to her, that much I had gathered, and pulled out a manila envelope, and ripped in to it eagerly, only stopping to look at Dick. He stopped, and I almost lost it.

"Maybe we should go somewhere private and look at this?" he said eyeballing both Dick and myself.

Dick nodded, and I dragged them into Ana's room. It was now completely empty, the bed made like no one had slept in it the previous evening. Her scent still lingered slightly in the air.

Nixon placed the sheets of paper on the desk so we could all lean forward and look at them at the same time.

"Oh Jesus Christ." Nixon said after a moment. I had a much stronger sentiment.

"Who the fuck thought of this mission?" I shouted, as we flipped to the next page. It just got better and better.

"Well." Was all Winters could say as we read the documents.

"Jesus Christ." Nixon murmured again. "Why Ana?"

"Do you speak Dutch? French? German?" Winters asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "And she'll blend in. No one would be suspicious of a female…" he trailed off, biting his lip.

"Jesus." I murmured as I stepped back and slumped on her bed.

"Did she say anything else?" I asked them as I dragged my hand through my hair.

"Umm…she asked us to mail a few letters for her?" Nixon responded.

"Where are they?"

He pointed to the other room to his bunk. "You aren't planning on reading her correspondence are you?"

I didn't respond, but sure enough there was an envelope with my name on it.

I ripped in to it. One word, in large bold writing.

"HOPE"

…

Jumping in the daylight was a lot different than jumping at night, and there was no one firing at me, although I was certain no one would've missed the plane over head or the parachute that came from it. I quickly stowed my parachute and jump gear and stripped myself naked in the woods, changing my clothes. My hair was still relatively neat in its braids, and I hoped I would blend in with the Dutch.

I had 8 kilometers to walk to the village where I was to meet with the Dutch Resistance leader in the area. 8 kilometers to walk out in the open, where the enemy could be anywhere. No weapon, just feminine wiles, of which I was certain after my brief relationship with Ron were none. Ugh. I wasn't going to dwell on it right now. This was not the place for my heartbreak to be on my sleeve.

I collected some wild flowers, and draped them lazily in my arms, hoping they would provide some cover, and an explanation for me being so far out of town if someone should happen upon me and started my journey.

My senses were on over load and I was jumpy. Perhaps not the normal behaviour of a young Dutch woman who by this point would be used to German occupation. I walked at a steady pace, cursing the civilian shoes, the kitten heal digging into the soft dirt road. Cursing whomever had picked them out for they were two sizes to small and I could already feel a blister forming. Cursing my attire as I felt myself sweating in the wool. Someone obviously hadn't thought this outfit through, no woman would've picked it out. Made of wool, the wrong fabric for the season, and, like the shoes, two sizes two small and quite form fitting.

I hadn't been on the road more than a half hour when a contingent of SS approached in a flatbed truck. They stopped in front of me, two of them jumping out, weapons on their arms.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, and hoped they couldn't see my racing pulse from the movement at my neck.

"Good day." I said to them in Flemish.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" the soldier to my right asked in German, earning a few low chuckles from his companions in the truck.

"Collecting wild flowers for my grandmother. She is ill." I said the lie flowing easily off my tongue as I switched to German.

"You should not be this far from the village." He continued, "The enemy could be anywhere."

I shivered I response, his eyes had gone cold as he looked at me.

"I am heading back now, I had not realised I had wandered so far." I said, as I made to step by him.

"Not so fast." His companion said, grasping at my forearm with a tight grip.

"Let's see your papers." He demanded.

I reached into my pocket, and pulled out the false papers that had been included with my detailed orders.

"Annalie Verkhoven?" he inquired, and I nodded.

"You speak German very well, with an interesting lilt to it."

"I try very hard to speak correctly," I said, averting my gaze, a blush naturally creeping into my cheeks, "But my father had insisted I learn so many languages, I often speak one with the intonation of the other. My apologies." I finished on a whisper, hoping to come off ashamed at my butchering of the German language.

In reality, I knew that my German was rather flawless, although not perfect.

They looked at each other and nodded.

"Come, we will give you a ride back to the village."

"That is ok, I would not want to keep you from your duties." I said, looking up at them again.

"We insist." They said in unison. It wasn't a request, this was an order. I had been in the military long enough to know when I had a choice, and right now, I had no choice.

"Thank you. I will now be able to visit my grandmother before dark." Fuck. I had nowhere for them to drop me off, I was to meet Hans, my contact in the basement of the bake shop.

The rid to the village was quick, thank god, because my nerves were fried, already. I was not cut out for being a spy, I decided. I wasn't cut out to be a soldier either.

Or love, I thought, my mood darkening even further, as I dug my nails into my palm.

"Where shall we drop you?" a soldier asked me breaking me out of my vigilant daze.

"Anywhere is fine." I said, immediately kicking myself.

"Where is your home?" he persisted.

"You can drop me at the bakery." I said softly. They would know I was coming, and when they saw me in the hands of the Germans they would help me cover my tracks and go along with my story.

"Are you the baker's daughter?" one of the SS soldiers asked raising an eyebrow at the man sitting next to me.

I nodded my head gently.

"Funny." He started, looking at me, as he cocked his gun, "I don't remember the baker having a daughter."

Oh crap.

"Who are you?" he demanded, grabbing me by my arm. "Speak."

"Annalie Verkhoven." I responded, meeting his gaze as the butt of his gun connected with my temple.

My world went black.


End file.
